


At the Edge of Nothing At All

by missparker



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1352761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missparker/pseuds/missparker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“While the Copernican principle comes with no guarantees that it will forever guide us to cosmic truths, it's worked quite well so far: not only is Earth not in the center of the solar system, but the solar system is not in the center of the Milky Way galaxy, the Milky Way galaxy is not in the center of the universe, and it may come to pass that our universe is just one of many that comprise a multiverse. And in case you're one of those people who thinks that the edge may be a special place, we are not at the edge of anything either.”<br/>― Neil deGrasse Tyson</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Go Lancers!

**Author's Note:**

> This is like the dumbest thing I've ever written, so I'm just gonna write it one dumb chapter at a time.

Chapter One

 _“The notion of a multiverse is essentially a reworking of Many Worlds, with one critical difference. In the multiverse, the dictum against interactions isn’t absolute. Travel between worlds is technically within the laws of physics, but statistically highly unlikely.”_  
-The Physics of the Buffyverse, page 205

*

She has a week to settle in before the kids start back. It seems like both a lot of time and not enough all at once. New jobs always make her a little anxious and this one includes moving to another state into a town where she hardly knows a soul. She’s been to Colorado Springs a few times - to visit when Mark was in the Air Force Academy and more recently for her job interview and to rent a quick apartment. 

She liked San Diego, she did, but the California economy meant she was pink slipped at the end of almost every school year and she just wants a little more job stability. Liberty high school is in an affluent part of Colorado Springs which greatly increases her chance of someday actually getting tenure. Plus Colorado is a beautiful state and she loves the outdoors. She’ll be able to hike in the summer, ski in the winter. She’s confident it’ll be a good fit and she’s certainly not tied down in San Diego. No husband, no boyfriend, no prospects after living there for four years. 

She drove her car with a U-Haul trailer attached through the desert to the mountains. Her furniture she had to ship. 

Now it’s her first day actually on campus. She’s met almost no other teachers - her interview was with Principal Hammond, Vice-Principal Landry and the head of the Science department, Janet something. Janet had seemed nice, friendly, and pleased to hire another female science teacher. 

“This department has been a boys club for too long,” she’d said after Hammond had officially offered the job. 

But as Sam waits around in the office while the Principal’s secretary, Walter, hunts around for the keys to Sam’s new classroom, she doesn’t see any familiar faces. She doesn’t see any faces at all save for Walter rummaging through a cupboard. The principal’s office is dark and while there are cars in the faculty parking lot, the campus is a ghost town. 

Walter must see her staring out the window at the parking lot because he says, “Don’t worry Ms. Carter, student orientation will fill this place up in a jiffy.”

“Call me Sam,” she says. 

“Sure,” he says. “Okay, this key is for your classroom. This is for the Science faculty room. This is for the communal faculty areas around the campus and this is for the after hours parking gate if you’re here late and your car gets stuck.”

“Uh,” she says. “Okay.”

“This is your parking pass - row F, spot 23. The longer you’re here, the better the spot.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her like this is some sort of brass ring to go after.

“Thanks,” she says. “Do you, uh, have a map of the campus?”

“Sure,” he says. He pulls one out of a folder and slides it to her across the counter that separates his work area from who ever might wander into the office. “Do you want me to show you where your room is?”

“I can find it, thanks,” she says. 

“Principal Hammond wants the first semester’s lesson plans by Wednesday,” he says. “Welcome to LHS. Go Lancers!”

She carries her new bounty back to her car where’s parked in a visitor’s spot and then hangs the navy and silver parking permit on her rearview mirror. She drives to the faculty lot and finds her spot - closer to the road than to the school, but still much closer than her spot ever was in San Diego. The air here is cool and clean this early on an August morning instead of smoggy and sweltering and though she feels a little anxious, she feels good about things. She can make this work, she can. 

She sits in her car and studies the map for awhile. Her classroom is in the C building which is basically all the way across campus from everything, down by sports fields. Sighing, she gets out of the car and gets the box from her trunk that contains the things she usually keeps in her classroom. A few framed pictures for her desk, a couple personal physics books, her poster of Carl Sagan. 

She fumbles for a minute trying to find the right key to open the double doors that lets her into the building. The keys all look the same - small gold keys imprinted with the instructions that they are not to be duplicated. Once she opens the doors, she sets her box down inside and digs a permanent marker out of her purse. She writes a little ‘C’ on the key and attaches it to her key ring. 

The halls twist and turn and she studies the map for a bit before she continues on. Her room is C-4. Most of the classrooms are dark and empty but as she passes C-2 she sees Janet inside, sitting at the desk and tapping away at her computer. Her door is propped open so Sam sticks her head in.

“Hello,” she says. Janet looks up.

“Samantha!” she says. “You’re here!”

“Yeah,” she says. “How are you?”

“Good, good. Welcome!” Janet says standing up. “Have you found your room?”

“I’m just headed there now,” Sam says, shifting the box to rest on her hip. “This place is quiet.”

“You’re our only new hire this year if you can believe it,” Janet says. “Most teachers will come in on Wednesday to get ready for freshman orientation but I came in hoping to see you. Come on, I’ll show you your room.” 

The room is bigger than her classroom in San Diego and she’ll have less students. Her classes gets capped at 28 - something she’s really looking forward to. 

“This is it,” Janet says, flipping on the lights.

“It’s really nice,” Sam says, smiling. 

“I left your packet here on your desk,” Janet says, hurrying over to the big gray desk in the corner of the room. “It has more information on the school, the staff contact list, and your schedule.”

“Okay,” she says, setting the box down on one of the desks. 

“Just let me know if you need anything,” she says. “Do you have family in the area?”

“Nope,” Sam says. “This is kind of a fresh start for me. My dad was an Air Force General and my brother is a Major but he’s stationed in California…” She trails off, wondering if she’d already over shared. Mark hadn’t been happy about his sister leaving but after her dad died last year, it just seemed like time to move on.

“Have you found a place?” 

“Uh,” she says. “I’m renting month to month at an apartment but I hope to find a house.”

“It’s a pretty good market here, especially for renters,” Janet says. “My shitty ex-husband was in real estate.”

“Ah,” Sam says.

“Because of the Air Force, there’s a lot of people coming and going in this market, so there’s always stuff to rent,” Janet says. 

“I’m sure I’ll find something,” she says. 

“Okay, well,” Janet says. “I’ll leave you to work. If you want, we can get lunch?”

“Sure,” Sam says.

She reads the packet on her desk, instructions on how to electronically submit her lesson plan to Hammond, the freshman orientation schedule, her identification badge attached to a navy colored Liberty High School lanyard. She finds her class schedule - two physics classes, an AP physics class, two honors physics class and a prep period. 

At least she could tailor her lesson plan from San Diego a bit and not start over from scratch. 

The school feels a little dark and eerie. She has windows that looks out onto the field, but she’s used to California where all the classroom doors open to the outside, not this where, even now when her door is wide open, all she can see is a dark and empty hallway. She listens hard to see if she can hear Janet a few doors down, but all is quiet. 

She gets up and struggles to open the windows. They do open, but they don’t give easily and screech a little as she forces them open. One slides back down again and she sees a ruler on the ledge and uses it to keep it propped open. A gift from whoever had this job before. 

At some point, the sound of sprinklers coming on jars her out of her focus on her lesson plans and a look at the clock tells her it’s five past noon. Her stomach growls audibly.

“Guess it’s time for lunch,” she mutters. She saves everything to her thumb drive and logs out of the computer. 

Purse on her shoulder, she walks down to Janet’s classroom, but it’s empty. Figuring there could be many reasons for that, she heads for the double doors that exit to the back of the school and figures she’ll walk around in the sunshine and head for her car. If she runs into Janet, fine, if not, she’ll go to that sandwich shop she passed on the way in. 

The sprinklers make everything smell like wet, cut grass and she breathes in deeply, gazing across the green expanse toward the baseball diamond and, past that, what looks to be the football field surrounded by tall lights and bleachers. She’s done a fair bit of research on this school but she didn’t bother much with the sports program. She knows they have teams but past that, she doesn’t know much.

As she turns the corner, she sees a set of open doors that lead into the gym. Inside, a man in a navy polo shirt and khaki shorts is standing a few yards away from her, under one of the basketball nets. He’s staring up at it, a whistle around his neck. She glances up and sees that there’s something caught in the netting - a jock strap. 

“Need a hand?” she asks. 

He turns at looks at her.

“Got any ideas?” he asks, a slight southern drawl tinging his voice.

“How about a ladder?” she suggests.

“I was thinking of just hurling basketballs at it until it comes down.” He smiles at her. “I’m Cam.”

“Sam Carter,” she says. She walks in far enough to shake his hand. 

“Oh, you’re our new hire!” he says. 

“Guess so,” she says.

“I’m the assistant coach,” he says. “Also, apparently I’m in charge of getting junk cup straps down from nets.”

“What an appalling phrase,” she says, walking over to the cart of basketballs. She drops her purse onto the gym floor and picks up a basketball. Eyeing the jock strap she throws the basketball up, hard.

It hits the net, slams into the wall and then bounces away. The jock strap falls to the floor.

“See you later,” she says picking up her purse and walking out. 

oooo

“I’m so sorry,” Janet says the next day. “I didn’t mean to flake out on you. My daughter got a flat tire and I had to go help her change it on the side of the road.”

“It’s okay,” Sam says. “I won’t take it personally.” 

They are having lunch now, at any rate. This isn’t the first apology, but it’s the first explanation. 

“She’s only had her license for a couple weeks so I’m still nervous,” Janet says.

“She’s sixteen?” Sam asks.

“Yep. And a Liberty student which thrills her to no end, I assure you,” Janet says, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, that must be weird, having your mom be your teacher.”

“She’s never even been in my class!” Janet defends. “It’s still the end of the world. She avoids me on campus.”

Janet shakes her head and stabs her salad.

“What about you?” she asks. “Any kids?”

“No,” Sam says. “Maybe someday? I guess?”

“What does your husband think?” Janet probes.

“I don’t have one of those, either,” Sam says. “I must’ve accidentally left pathetic spinster off my resume.” 

“Spinster, maybe,” Janet says. “But that resume was not pathetic.”

“Thanks, I think,” Sam says. 

“Well I know plenty of single men,” Janet says, waving her hand in the air dramatically. “We can go on double dates.”

“Um,” Sam says. “I’m actually… I think I just need to settle in for a while. Get my bearings.” 

“Bad break-up, huh?” she asks.

“No, just… my father just passed away last year so I just… now this big move. I feel like I’ve had enough change for awhile.” Sam smiles, forces one to show Janet that she’s okay. 

“I’m so sorry,” Janet says. 

“It’s fine,” she says. “It’s… it’s really okay.” 

Of course it isn’t, but Sam steers the conversation gently away from herself. Janet adores her daughter and chatters about her endlessly. How they’re already looking at colleges, how she doesn’t want Cassie to move far away, how Cassie refuses to try out for cheerleading even though she’d be a smash at it - Janet’s words. 

“She’s too cool for it,” Janet says sadly, shaking her head. “She likes sports but she says cheerleading isn’t serious enough.”

“What does she play?”

“Track and softball,” she says. “Although the girl’s coach, Carolyn, just went out on maternity leave so I think Jack is going to take over the girls for a few months. That’ll be a riot.” 

“I thought the coach’s name was Cam,” she says.

“Cam Mitchell is the assistant coach,” Janet says. “He’s pretty new here, too.”

“Oh,” says Sam.

“Jack O’Neill is the head coach. He’s been here longer than I have. His son Charlie is really smart. He has some classes with Cassie, though he’s a year younger.” Janet squints. “You’ll probably have Charlie in physics this year. He’ll maybe be your only sophomore.” 

“Okay,” Sam says. Though Janet has been more than friendly, she seems like she might be the conductor of the gossip train as far as the staff goes. 

“Jack is nice,” Janet says. “I’ll introduce you.” 

“I’m sure I’ll meet everyone before too long,” she says dismissively. Sam likes to make up her own mind about people. This is the fourth high school she’s worked at and there are always cliques within the teaching staff, just like with the students. She wants to like Colorado Springs, wants to settle down somewhere and so she’s wary of choosing a side too quickly. 

After lunch, returned to her classroom, Sam finishes working on her lesson plan for the first semester and emails it to Principal Hammond. She hasn’t seen him - or much of anyone - for the last two days, but they have an all staff meeting tomorrow morning to discuss the orientation days that fill the rest of the week, so she’s not too worried about it. She’s glad she has the bulk of her planning out of the way. And when three rolls around, she leaves feeling satisfied and prepared.

oooo

There are more cars in the parking lot than she has ever seen when she arrives on Wednesday morning. It seems as if most of the staff park as close as they can - in the visitor spots, along the fire lane that lines the strip of road that segregates the parking lot and the building, and in the student lot closest to the cafeteria. Sam parks in her designated space. She puts her purse on her shoulder and carries her travel mug of coffee down to the set of open double doors that lead to the cafeteria. 

The place is milling with people and it all seems like they stop to look at her at the same time. There are a few familiar faces - Walter at the side of Principal Hammond and she can see Janet waving her in. 

“Ah,” says Principal Hammond. “Here she is now.”

“Hi,” she says uneasily. “Am I late?”

“No,” he says. “No of course not. We’re just happy to welcome you.”

“Well thank you, sir,” she says.

“Please,” he says. “Call me George.” 

For her benefit, once they are all there, seated around one of the long cafeteria tables, everyone introduces themselves and what they teach. She sits between Janet and George Hammond and tries to remember everyone’s name though halfway through, she gives it up as an impossible feat. Some people stand out like the huge history teacher, who just introduced himself as ‘T’ and the shop teacher who had a cast on his left arm and a bandage across his nose, Sylvester Siler. She could always remember alliterative names. 

Just as they’re about finished with introductions, two more men enter. The doors clatter behind them and everyone looks at them.

“Jack! Daniel! How nice that you’ve decided to join us,” Hammond says.

“Ah,” says one of them. “George. Thanks for having us.” 

“Sorry,” mutters the other one. He’s a bit younger, has glasses and long floppy hair and at least manages to look a little embarrassed. They sit at the far end of the table. When the last person introduces themselves - Jonas Quinn, English - Hammond doesn’t give the late comers the opportunity of introduction. Janet leans in and says softly, “Daniel’s our librarian, and that’s Jack O’Neill.” 

Sam nods. She remembers Janet mentioning him and his son, Charlie. Jack is a little older than she imagined or maybe his tan face and salt and pepper hair just make him look older than he really is. But there’s something about him - his cocky attitude at his tardiness, his intelligent eyes, his strong build - that is appealing and familiar. He looks… military. As someone who has grown up in a family where the men have always been in the Air Force, she can spot them. 

She stops looking at him when he looks up at her and tries to listen to the instructions that Hammond is laying down for the next few days of student orientation. She’s done this before - different location but same thing. Freshman come pick up their schedules, pre-purchase yearbooks, school t-shirts, sign up for clubs and sports, find their classrooms before the big day. Hammond has her sitting at one of the registration tables to ease her in. Thursday is students with last names A through M and Friday is the rest. 

“Wear your school colors,” Hammond says. “School spirit starts with us, people.” 

That afternoon, the truck hauling the rest of Sam’s things finally arrives a week after she does and she spends the rest of the evening pushing furniture around her little apartment. She doesn’t want this place to become permanent, but she’s happy enough to put her bed together so she doesn’t have to spend another night on an air mattress. She unpacks her kitchen, hangs all her clothes. And along with her furniture, the truck has delivered her motorcycle. As soon as the sun sets and she’s tired of unpacking, she puts on her leather jacket, her helmet, and takes her bike out of the residential neighborhood and into the more commercial part of town to find herself some dinner.

There’s a small diner in a strip mall that looks like it’s been there for 50 years. She’s noticed it a few times and though it doesn’t look very inviting, it’s usually places like these that have the best food. She parks her bike and carries her helmet into the diner. There are a few people here and there and she’s just looking around for hostess when someone says, “Hey, Physics!”

She turns and sees someone waving her over.

“Librarian,” she says. “Hi.”

“Daniel Jackson,” he says, shaking her hand when she gets close enough. 

“Sam Carter,” she replies.

“Care to join me?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “You could be a murderer for all I know.”

“So could you,” he says. “But what are the odds of us both being murderers?”

“You want the math?” she asks.

“Never mind, go away,” he says.

She sits down. 

“So, where are you from?” he asks, pushing his menu toward her. He says it with an edge of sarcasm, like this is a game he’s playing, being polite, but it doesn’t seem disingenuous. 

“Everywhere,” she says. 

“Military family?”

“Yep,” she says. “But I just moved from San Diego.”

“Wow, is winter going to suck for you,” he says. 

“I’ve lived all over,” she says. “I can deal with winter.”

He nods toward the window. “Motorcycles aren’t good in the snow.”

“Thanks for the tip,” she says. “I ride a motorcycle so obviously I don’t know the first thing about them.”

“I just meant, I hope you have something else to drive,” he says. 

“Volvo,” she says. 

“A motorcycle riding physics teacher from California,” he says. “Kids will love you.” 

“Maybe,” she says. “But I don’t grade easily. I make them work for it.” 

He nods. “Good.”

“So, anything good here?”

“Anything deep fried is to die for,” he says.

“Oh boy,” she says. “I am not in California anymore.”

oooo

Sam gets partnered with the English teacher, Jonas, and they sit at a long folding table out on the quad. They are at the check-in table for freshman registration. It’s an easy gig and she is glad to have it. She gets to sit in the sunshine and do little more than check names off a list and hand out the welcome packet. She has a stack of maps and occasionally directs people to the front office or another building, but nothing is beyond her. It’s warm but not hot and she keeps her sunglasses up on her head just in case. She'd worn a navy, sleeveless blouse and a jean skirt. It was the closest she could come to school spirit, but when Janet saw her in the morning, she'd tossed her a blue shirt that said ‘Go Lancers!’ in silver type and had the cheesy mascot on the back. 

It’s large on her - she thinks it’s meant for the sports department because it looks like the coaches are wearing them too - Cam and Coach O’Neill. She uses a rubber band from her purse to tie the extra fabric of her shirt behind her and rolls up the sleeves a little. 

Mostly, she won’t meet her students because no freshman are in Physics, but it’s good to see some new faces anyway. Jonas is chatty and friendly and recognizes parents and the younger siblings of former students. They only chit chat during lulls and mostly he fills that space.

“You’re from California?” he asks.

“Well, kind of,” she says. “I’m not really from anywhere. We moved a lot.”

“Military,” he says, nodding. “We have a lot of that here because of the Academy. A lot of students come and go and never make it through all four years.”

“Where are you from?” she asks, hoping to get the subject off things that make her think of her dad. 

“Kelowna,” he says. She shakes her head a little. “It’s in Canada. I’m technically Canadian. Well, my mother is Canadian, and my father was American, so I actually have citizenship in both countries…” 

And he’s off again chatting until another batch of students come up to the table, looking nervous and sweaty. Sam smiles at them, tries to look comforting.

“Welcome to Liberty,” she says. “Last name?”

Finally, their line dies down and Sam stands up to stretch her tired muscles. The sun is directly overhead and beats down on her. Her short hair feels damp at her neck and over her ears and she feels sticky and salty wherever clothes touch her skin.

“August, huh?” asks Jonas.

“Where do we go now?” she asks. 

“The gym,” he says.

She remembers now. All of the clubs have set up tables in the gym to try to recruit new members before school even starts. Technically, sports are considered a club, but the football team has already been practicing through the summer. There are other, more academic clubs. Janet waves her over to a table she’s sitting at - Science club. There’s also a creative writing club, a Gay-Straight Alliance table with a huge rainbow flag duct taped to the wall behind them, all the foreign language clubs, chess club, ROTC, et cetera. 

“You look cooked,” Janet says. 

“Probably should have worn more sunscreen,” she admits. She’d put on her regular lotion that included sunscreen, but that felt like ages ago. 

“Your nose is red,” Janet says. “There’s probably aloe vera in the nurse’s office.”

“That’s a good idea. Can I get into there?” she asks.

“Do you have your school keys?”

Sam fishes them out of her pocket. Janet takes them and plucks one key out of the rest. The others slide down to the bottom of the ring with a soft, metallic clank. Sam takes it, makes sure not to lose it. 

“Across from the counseling offices,” Janet says. 

“Great,” Sam says, “Thanks.”

Because everything is set up for orientation, the actual offices are pretty deserted. She lets herself in and is grateful for the cool air pumping into the enclosed space. As she turns the corner, though, she can hear voices.

“Can you bend it?”

“It’s fine, dad.”

“If you can’t walk across the quad without biffing it, how are you supposed to make QB this year?”

“I’m a sophomore, I shouldn’t be QB and you know Austin is a better choice. He’s more athletic than I am.”

“You’re plenty athletic, Charlie.”

“I’m a baseball player, I suck at football.”

“You don’t suck, you just need more practice.”

Sam steps up to the open door and knocks lightly on the frame. She doesn’t like feeling like she’s eavesdropping - she recognizes Coach O’Neill and a boy of about 15, what must be his son, Charlie, who Janet had mentioned before. Charlie has a big band-aid on his elbow and blood down one leg of his khaki cargo shorts. 

“Sorry,” she says. “I don’t mean to interrupt.”

“Who are you?” asks Charlie. Coach O’Neill elbows him in his injured arm. “Ow!”

“Manners,” Coach O’Neill says. “This is… I’m sorry, I actually can’t remember. We’ve just been calling you ‘the new one’.” 

“Samantha Carter,” she says. “Physics.” 

“Did Mr. Stevenson finally destroy his liver and die?” asks Charlie. Coach O’Neill elbows him again, harder, still in his injured arm. “OW! Dad, seriously?”

“Uh,” Sam says. “I don’t know what happened to my predecessor, but I hear you’ll be in my class?”

“That’s the plan,” Charlie says. 

"AP," Coach O'Neill says proudly.

Though Charlie is tall like his dad, and thin, he has a baby roundness to his face. He isn’t very muscular and looks like he’s still in for a big dose of puberty. She can see just by looking at him that he’d be better at baseball than football, but it must be hard when your father is the football coach. Sam points to his elbow.

“Did you take a spill?” she asks.

“I’m a klutz,” he says. 

“It’s not your fault,” Sam says. “When adolescents are growing, their legs are often different lengths which makes it difficult _not_ to fall.”

“See?” Charlies says, turning on his dad. “Science.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Go back to the team table, please.” 

Charlie doesn’t make him ask twice, just scoots past Sam as fast as he can.

“Do I need to patch you up, too?” he asks. 

“Just a sunburn,” she says. “Pretty sure I can handle it.” 

“No, no, I’m on a roll,” he says. He twists his ball cap around so the brim is over the back of his head and she gets a better look at him. He’s tan - not exactly wrinkle free, but he’s obviously a bit older than her and his eyes look kind. He seems like the kind of man that should rub her the wrong way, did rub her the wrong way at other schools, but instead of arrogance, he seems almost gentle. His movements seem deliberate and careful and thoughtful. “I think I saw some of that green goo in here.” He digs into one of the cupboards. “How are you liking Colorado Springs?”

“It’s fine,” she says. 

“Better air quality compared to California, eh?” he asks. His voice is muffled, but she understands him well enough.

“How do you know where I moved from?” she asks.

“Daniel,” he says, emerging with the bottle of aloe vera. “He’s a terrible gossip. Never tell him your secrets. Between him and Janet, no one is safe.” 

“Oh fabulous, the two people I’ve managed to befriend,” she says, holding out two fingers. He chuckles and squeeze a dollop out for her.

“Of course,” he says. “Fresh meat. You’re like blood in the gossip water… of sharks. Whatever, you know what I mean.”

She feels weird smoothing the stuff onto her face while he watches but it would be weirder to just carry it to the bathroom first. And anyway, it is cool and soothing and hopefully she won’t wake up tomorrow with her face blistered.

“Sorry about Charlie,” he says, as they leave the nurse's office behind. “Kid has a mouth on him. Got that from his mother.”

“Uh huh,” Sam says. “And if I were to ask her that, would she agree?” It seems like Coach O’Neill probably has the same sharp tongue as his son. 

Coach O’Neill’s pace falters for a moment. “Charlie’s mom passed away when he was seven,” he says. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t… know.” She winces.

“Of course you didn’t,” he says. “But no, she would not have agreed.” 

There’s an awkward silence as they head out of the building and back toward the gym. 

“Hey listen,” he says. “I know it sucks to be new. We all go to the bar after these orientation days. Why don’t you come with us? Get to know someone besides the gossip twins?”

“Okay,” she says. “I mean, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, Samantha,” he says.

“You can call me Sam,” she says. 

“Jack,” he says, extending his hand. “Welcome to Liberty High.” 

“Go Lancers,” she says, shaking his hand with a smile.

oooo

She still gets a ride with Janet. Janet issues a separate invitation and something makes Sam keep the conversation she had with Coach O’Neill - Jack - to herself. Sam wishes she could go home and shower first, but she settles for shucking the ill-fitting t-shirt only to find that she has sweated through her blouse underneath.

“Yikes,” says Janet.

“Your tact is appreciated,” Sam says.

“I live not far,” Janet says. “We’ll stop and find you something to wear.”

“You are tiny!” Sam exclaims. “It won’t work. I’ll just go home and meet you there.”

“Nonsense,” Janet says, waving Sam into her car. “I’m sure I have something.” 

Janet’s house is a small three bedroom bungalow with a wrap around porch that Sam admires. When they walk in, she sees a girl sitting on the couch in front of the television.

“Cass,” Janet says loudly over the sound of the TV. “Too loud.”

Cassandra turns around and eyes Sam. 

“Hi,” Sam says with a little wave.

“This is Ms. Carter,” Janet says. “This is Cassandra.”

“Cassie,” Cassie corrects. “You’re the new science teacher?”

“Yup,” Sam says.

“Cool,” Cassie says and turns around again. She say ‘cool’ the way she might have said ‘whatever’ and Sam isn’t dumb enough to take it as acceptance. 

“This way,” Janet says, leading her down the hall. 

Sam ends up in a v-neck t-shirt that might have been loose on Janet but is borderline obscene on Sam. 

“I don’t know about this.” Sam stares at herself in the mirror. It’s not the shirt’s fault - the shirt is a nice fabric and a pretty sea foam green that makes Sam’s blue eyes turn aquamarine in the evening light, but it shows a lot of cleavage and leaves little to the imagination. 

“Good thing we’re going to a bar, not a funeral,” Janet says. “Come on, or we’ll miss happy hour.” 

She rides with her arms crossed as they drive the short distance to the bar. 

“Relax,” Janet says as she pulls into a parking spot. There are a handful of cars in the parking lot. 

“I am relaxed,” she says. “I just don’t know these people very well. Or you.”

“This is how you make friends. Didn’t you ever learn how to make friends?” Janet asks laughing. 

“I had the childhood of a military brat,” Sam says. “Not really.”

Janet’s features soften. “Tell you what,” she says. “We’re friends now, so I can say this without it being too weird. Your boobs look amazing. Own it.”

Sam tries to smile but it comes out more like an awkward grimace. “Thanks.”

Everyone calls it the bar, but it’s actually a restaurant. There’s a full bar inside set aside from the main dining area. When she and Janet arrive, several high top tables have been pushed together and there are about ten familiar faces. 

“What are you drinking?” Janet asks. “First round on me.” 

“Blue moon?” Sam asks. 

There’s an empty stool by the huge history teacher so she takes it. He dips his head at her in greeting.

“Hi,” she says.

“Samantha Carter,” he says. “How are you enjoying your new post?”

“Very well,” she says. 

“I am glad,” he says. “Though you may change your mind once classes start.”

She laughs. “No history enthusiasts at Liberty?”

“A few,” he concedes. “Mostly teenagers are just bodies being controlled by hormones I have found.”

“True,” she says. “Are you originally from Colorado?”

He looks away. “Do I not seem native to this place?” 

“Well your impeccably formal English makes me think it is your second language,” she says.

“I am Canadian,” he says. “Quebec.”

“I see,” she says. “Jonas Quinn is Canadian as well. What are the odds?”

Janet sets a beer in front of her and then wanders off to find another empty stool at the other end of the table, near Daniel. Sam scans the group and sees Coach O’Neill a couple stools away. He’s looking at her and raises his glass a little when their eyes meet.

“Are you and he acquainted already?” asks T. 

“I talked to him a little bit today. I met his son, Charlie,” she says. 

“Charlie is extremely bright,” T says. There’s a pause there like he wants to say more about it, but he doesn’t.

“Good,” she says a little uneasily. Coach O’Neill has slipped off his stool and is coming around to their side of the table. On Sam’s other side is one of the math teachers who happily gives his seat to O’Neill. 

“You two having fun?” he asks.

“Indeed,” says T. 

“You’ve hardly touched your beer,” he says, pointing to her bottle. She takes a swig. “You want something else?”

“No,” she says. “I’m good.”

“Daniel says you drive a motorcycle?”

“An Indian,” she says. “Yeah. When I can.”

“I have an old Harley that I inherited from my father-in-law but I’ve never been able to make it run,” he says. 

“Are you mechanical?” she asks, surprised.

“No,” answers T for him. 

“I mean, I kicked it a couple times, but that never seemed to do it,” O’Neill says. 

She smiles and shakes her head. “What about the shop teacher?” she asks. 

“Siler?” O’Neill crows. “No way! I mean, he probably could fix it but he’s so accident prone, he’d probably burn down the neighborhood trying.”

“I see,” she says.

“Maybe if you find a good shop, you can let me know,” he says.

“Oh I never take my Indian in,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s my baby. I do all my repairs myself.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

She bristles. “What? You don’t think a woman can make a good mechanic?”

“On the contrary,” he says. “I think it’s… awesome.” 

“I require another beverage,” T says and heads for the bar. 

“Well, I could take a look, if you want,” she offers. 

“Sure, sure,” he says. “You can tell me if it is worth salvaging.” 

She takes a swig of her beer. She’s tired and feels a little feverish from her sunburn. 

“Well, Charlie’s home alone so I’m gonna head out,” he says. 

“I came with Janet,” she says. “And from the looks of her, I’ll never get out of here.” Janet has her head thrown back in laughter at something Daniel is saying and is already on her second drink.

“I can give you a ride,” O’Neill offers. 

“Oh, I don’t want to impose,” she says.

“Come on,” he says. “You’ll offend me if you say no.”

“Just let me tell Janet,” she says. “I’ll meet you by the door.”

The music has gotten loud - a recent development as the after work crowd had started coming in. It takes a minute to get Janet’s attention. She points to the door.

“I’m going home,” she says.

“What? We just got here!” Janet says. 

“Tired,” Sam says and points to her red nose. “I’ll wash your shirt.” 

“Okay!” Janet says.

She doesn’t ask how Sam is getting home and Sam is weirdly relieved. 

Coach O’Neill is coming out of the men’s room when she reaches the doors to the restaurant, and he holds the door open for her. Outside has cooled down quite a bit and she’s grateful for the breeze across her skin, though she does wish there was less skin showing.

“I must be getting old,” O’Neill says. “I used to last longer than an hour at these things.”

“I was never much of a party girl,” she says. 

“You ride motorcycles for science, then?” he asks. 

“I just like to thrill seek sober, I guess,” she says. “I ride motorcycles because I couldn’t fly jet planes.”

“Ex-military?” he asks, surprise on his face.

“No,” she says. “My dad and brother. When I realized at 14 that women couldn’t fly combat planes, I vowed never to enlist.” 

They’ve stopped beside a large truck. 

“You’re not Jacob Carter’s daughter, are you?” he asks. 

She feels her stomach fall like it does when anyone brings up her father unexpectedly.

“You knew him?” she asks.

“Not well,” O’Neill says. “But I knew he was a good general. I was sorry to hear about his passing.”

“Thank you,” she says. “We didn’t always see eye to eye but he was my dad and I miss him.”

“Of course,” he says. He reaches into his pocket and unlocks the truck with his fob. 

The truck is pretty clean and well-kept, though the back seat is loaded with sports equipment like it had been in the bed of the truck and he’d shoved it in the cab when he parked. 

“Where to?”

“The Vineyards?” she says. “It’s off Woodmen road.”

“I know that complex,” he says. 

“It’s not perfect but I didn’t have enough time to find a permanent place and they let me rent month to month, so…”

“Close to the school,” he offers.

“Right.”

“How long have you been in town?” he asks.

“Only a couple weeks. I’m still mostly living out of boxes,” she admits. “My furniture came a couple days ago so that’s a relief. I’m not sleeping on an air mattress anymore.”

He winces. “Moving is the pits.”

“Yeah, but,” she shrugs. “There’s something refreshing about a new start. All new people, all new places. I’m just a born explorer, I think.”

“You would’ve done fine in the military,” he says. 

It seems like no time, but then he’s pulling up to the gate of her complex. 

“Want me to see you all the way in?” he asks.

“No,” she says. “Here is fine. Thanks, Coach.”

“Jack,” he says. 

She nods. “See you, Jack.” 

Her apartment seems all the more messy when she's faced with it again. Part of her doesn’t want to unpack because she really does want to find a place with more space - a house or at least a townhouse - but she also doesn’t want to be constantly rooting around for things. Washing the same set of silverware over and over again. 

She calls her brother, but he doesn’t answer. A few moments later, her phone rings. It’s her sister-in-law.

“Screening calls again?” Sam asks.

“You never leave a message! That’s how I knew it was probably you,” her sister-in-law says. Her name is Elizabeth and she and Mark have been married twelve years. 

“Just feeling a little homesick I guess,” Sam admits. 

“Are you meeting people, at least?” Elizabeth asks.

“Co-workers,” Sam says. “They’re nice.”

“Any handsome ones?”

“No,” Sam says, but she accidentally draws it out. “Well, no available handsome ones.” 

She certain doesn’t need the baggage of dead wife and teenage son. 

“Eye candy, then,” Elizabeth says. “Anyway, Mark’s at work and I have to put the kids to bed but I’ll tell him you called.”

“Bye,” Sam says. 

She showers off the sweat, puts on pajamas and has no trouble falling asleep.

In the morning, her nose is peeling.


	2. First Day of School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Physics is really nothing more than a search for ultimate simplicity, but so far all we have is a kind of elegant messiness.”_ \- Bill Bryson

Sam has lived through more first days of school than the average person. Between her own schooling - including her masters degree and a good chunk of a Ph.D. that she still plans on finishing one day, plus eight years of teaching high school, well, it’s safe to say that the novelty of the experience has long since worn off. 

But Sam wakes up to find herself nervous. She gets to school too early and then has to wait around for the day to start. And then when it’s actually time to start class, she has spent too much time lounging around her classroom drinking coffee and has to dash off to use the restroom and barely makes it back before first bell.

The kids - just plain old physics this period - are all dressed in their new school finery. Stiff blue jeans, unscuffed shoes, still sporting their summer tans.

She picks up her roster.

“I’m Ms. Carter,” she says. “If you’re not supposed to be in physics, get out.”

She pauses and a boy stands up suddenly and says “Oh shit!”

The class bursts into laughter as he rushes out the door.

“I say that every year!” she says. “That almost never happens!”

Most students smile at her and she finally starts to relax.

oooo

Charlie and Cassandra are both in her first class after lunch. It’s always a tough period - the kids come in tired and full of food and all intoxicated on freedom from an hour off from classes. But it’s also her AP period and she lets them know right away that this isn’t the class for screwing around. 

Then she assigns them homework.

“Daaayum, Mrs. C,” says one of the football players. All of the team are in their Liberty jerseys - a first day of school tradition apparently. Charlie O’Neill has his on, too. She’s had cheerleaders in uniform all day too, though it’s not a game day. There’s only one in this period, a tall girl sitting in the last row. The silver ribbon bow around her ponytail is coming untied and she’s doodling in her notebook. 

“Daaayum, Trevor,” Sam says, mocking his tone. “If you don’t want to work hard, you can always take life sciences again with the freshmen.” 

The class snickers and Trevor frowns. 

“It’s the first day of school,” he says helplessly. 

“Yep,” she says with a grin. She takes a deep breath in and says, “I love the smell of crushed spirits in the afternoon.” 

Cassandra raises her hand. 

“Yes, Cassie,” she says. 

“Can I sit as far away from Trevor as possible?” she asks. The class laughs again. 

“Hey!” says Trevor. 

“What’s wrong with Trevor?” Sam asks. 

“HEY!” says Trevor.

“He’s like super chatty,” Cassie says. “It’s distracting.”

“You’re three desks away from him,” Sam says. 

“Really chatty,” she stresses.

“Dude,” Trevor says. 

“Look,” Sam says. “I don’t really care where you sit. This is the equivalent to a college level class and in college, no one cares where you sit.”

“Awesome,” says Trevor.

“That being said,” Sam says. “Clearly the troublemaker in this class is Trevor Dunbar so if Trevor can’t get along with any of his neighbors, I will have to assign seats and it will be all Trevor’s fault.”

Everyone turns to look at Trevor. He slouches down into his desk.

“I’m cool, Mrs. C,” he says. “No need to pick on me.”

“Good to hear,” she says. “Okay, this is Advanced Placement. We have one school year to cover the five different sections that will show up on your AP exam.”

She hands out a couple bundles of the syllabus and waits for them to be passed around. 

“They are Newtonian Mechanics, Electricity and Magnetism, Fluid Mechanics and Thermal Physics, Waves and Optics, and, finally, Atomic and Nuclear Physics,” Sam says, writing them on the board as she goes. "It is my understanding that all of you have to be enrolled in some form of calculus class to be in this class, am I correct?” Heads nod. “For those of you also in AP Calculus, my sincere condolences on the death of your social life.”

There are a few groans.

“And you’re all juniors and seniors, correct?” she asks.

“Except for Killer O’Neill here,” says one of the boys, David, from the back. A few people chuckle. Charlie sinks into his chair. 

“Shut the fuck up, David, you douchechill,” Cassie says angrily.

“Language!” Sam says. “And David, do shut up.” 

He frowns but remains quiet.

“Sorry,” Cassie mutters, clearly not.

Sam rubs a hand over her hair. “Yes, Mr. O’Neill is a sophomore, but it’s just because he’s smarter than all of you, right Charlie?”

“Sure,” Charlie says. 

“Okay,” Sam says. “Turn to page two of your syllabus, please.” 

When the bell rings, Sam calls Cassie up and waits for people to file out.

“Killer O’Neill?” she asks, confused. It doesn’t seem like that bad of a nickname but Cassie had flown off the handle and Charlie had looked miserable.

“It’s stupid,” Cassie says. “You should talk to my mom about it. It’s kind of none of my business.” 

“Okay,” she says. “Thanks. You can go.” 

After school, Sam cleans up the wreck that is her classroom and watches the football team at practice out the window for awhile. She’s learned that trying to leave right at the bell puts her in the middle of the mass exodus of students and it’s not worth the traffic jam. She’s been wary about riding her motorcycle to school until she can find a safer place to park it than her spot. She doesn’t want to keep it where the local population can put their sticky little fingers all over it.

She packs up her bag, shuts down her computer, and locks her classroom door behind her. 

Outside smells like cut grass and sunshine, though it has started to get chilly when the sun sets. She’s looking forward to real seasons, to leaves that change and crisp fall air. She walks along the back of building C, where the only thing that separates her from the grass is the fire lane. She can see the bleachers of the football stadium and through those, the bedraggled team running laps around the field.

She doesn’t know why she does it, but she walks across the grass with her bag over her shoulder and slips into the field, sitting herself on the lowest bench across from where Cam and O’Neill are hollering at the players as they run. She wonders what lap this is because they are obviously slowing down. 

She can’t tell who is who, but O’Neill surely can because he throws down a clipboard in disgust. 

“You’re all cut!” he yells and turns his back on the boys.

She shakes her head and stands again, heading back the way she came. Every football coach is the same, like high school football is the last thing stopping the planet from total annihilation. 

oooo

“I saw you.” 

She’s startled. She’d been alone in the staff room, nursing her third cup of coffee. There’s still an hour until first period. She likes to come in early, she gets her best work done in the morning. But this morning she’s tired. The day after the first day of school - the day when the excitement of new beginnings is gone and there’s still practically the entire school year ahead. 

“What?” she asks. 

It’s the assistant coach, Cam. 

“Yesterday. In the bleachers. You were watching practice.”

“For like, ten seconds,” she says. “I hadn’t been out to the field yet, I wanted to take a peek.” 

“Well I saw you peeking,” Cam says, walking up to the coffee maker and pouring himself a styrofoam cup. He sits across from her at the little square table. 

“You’re probably very nice, but you come off a little creepy, anyone ever tell you that?” she asks.

“It’s the southern accent,” he says.

“I don’t think that’s it,” she retorts. 

“I’m a nice guy,” he says, putting his hands in the air.

“I believe you,” she says. 

The door opens and another teacher comes in. Sam remembers her from the first day. She is the drama teacher and has a sparkly scarf flung around her neck and a head full of wild, dark hair.

“Morning,” she grumbles, heading for the coffee pot. 

“Morning sunshine,” Cam chirps.

She opens the mini fridge and then slams it closed. “MOTHER FUCKER.”

“Whoa!” Sam says, jumping. 

“We are out of fucking creamer, I swear to god this job is going to kill me one day, it really is.” The woman puts her hand to her forehead. Definitely the drama teacher.

“Vala, there’s coffeemate in the cupboard, calm down,” Cam says. “It’s too early for theatrics.”

“I don’t want that powdery shit,” she says. She’s British, or possibly Australian, Sam thinks. Her accent is lovely, despite the aggressive swearing. 

She looks at Sam. “I’m usually very nice.”

“Hey,” she says. “Mornings are rough.” 

“Vala Mal Doran,” She says, extending her hand like she’s royalty, like Sam is supposed to kiss a ring. Sam awkwardly shakes her limp fingers.

“Sam Carter,” she says.

“Yes, the scientist, I recall,” she says. “Welcome to Hell!” And she flounces out.

“Vala can be very…” Cam hedges.

“Yes, I can see,” Sam mutters, sipping her coffee.

“She grows on you, she really does,” Cam says. “The kids love her.” 

“And are you so popular with the teens?” Sam asks.

“They like me okay,” he says. “Well, they like me better than Jack but they respect him more.” 

“It’s the military,” she says. “They’re a type. They demand respect.” 

“Well, he yells more, too,” Cam says. 

“So I saw,” she says. He smiles, knowingly. “In my ten seconds of peeking, that is.”

Some of the first few students are starting to appear in the hallway, those who have zero period classes.

Cam snickers. “Looks like driver’s ed is out.”

“Who teaches that?” she asks.

“Jack,” Cam says. “He hates it.”

“Why does he keep doing it?” she asks.

“Well, I think he’s the only one certified to and he and George are close.”

“Hammond makes him?” Sam interprets.

“Pretty much.” 

Sam’s coffee cup is almost empty and the coffee has grown cool. 

“Well, into the breach once more. See you later,” she says, standing up.

“Later,” Cam says.

On her way to her classroom, she passes by Janet’s open door. She knocks lightly. 

“Hey!” Janet says. “How are you.”

“Fine,” she says. “Good.”

“Good,” Janet says. “Did you need something?”

Sam slips in and crosses her arms. “I wanted to ask you something about Charlie O’Neill.”

“Ah,” Janet says “Cassie mentioned that you might.” 

“The kids call him something,” Sam says. “A nickname. Killer O’Neill.”

“Kids can be cruel,” Janet says. “Charlie’s mother passed away when he was little. There was an accident.”

“What kind of accident?” Sam asks. 

Janet shifts a little in her seat. “Charlie found Jack’s handgun.” 

“Oh my god,” Sam says.

“These kids have all grown up together, they know each other too well.” Janet shakes her head. “Everyone knows that what happened to Sara O’Neill was an accident, but kids are cruel. The nickname started when Charlie made the football team as a freshman. They think Jack plays favorites and so they take it out on Charlie.” 

“Everything about that is so upsetting.” Sam shakes her head. “I’d be traumatized for life.”

“Charlie is okay,” Janet says. “I mean, considering. But I don’t think being reminded of it all the time is particularly helpful.”

“No,” Sam agrees. “And I don’t think he even likes football very much.”

“Don’t let Jack hear you say that,” Janet says. “Speaking of Jack…”

“Yeah?” Sam says nonchalantly. 

“I hear you two are fast friends.” Janet waggles her eyebrows.

“What?” Sam asks.

“He gave you a ride home from the bar,” Janet says. “Daniel told me.”

“Ah yes, wedding bells are pealing because I rode in his truck,” she says. 

“Okay, but still,” Janet says. “Your sarcasm aside, Jack could use a friend like you.” 

“I’ve already explained that I’m not particularly good at making friends,” Sam says. 

“That’s hooey,” Janet says. “We’re friends.”

“Sort of,” Sam says.

“Rude,” Janet says. “Come for dinner tonight. You can bring my shirt.”

“I haven’t washed it yet,” Sam says. 

“That’s okay, bring it dirty,” she says. “Just come. Six o’clock.” 

“Fine,” Sam says. “In the spirit of friendship, I accept.”

oooo

Sam’s last class of the day is Honors Physics - for the kids who are smart, but either can’t afford the AP test or don’t really want to work that hard. They’re all seniors and there’s a couple of the boys who look old enough to rent a car. They tower over her and she’s on the tall side already. 

She collects the homework assignments from the day before - one handwritten page on what they already know about physics. The one that ends up on the top belongs to Steven Lyon, one of the huge, bearded boys sitting in the back. It is mostly blank, except for his brief scrawl.

_"The most incomprehensible thing about the world is that it is comprehensible." - Albert Einstein_

“Very smooth, Mr. Lyon,” she says. “But that’s only going to work once.”

“Once is all I need, Ms. Carter,” he says. 

She makes a mental note to keep an eye on him. She always has favorites - all teachers do and anyone who says differently is lying. She doesn’t grade on favorites or show favoritism while teaching, but she knows who she likes. And usually, the well-liked know she likes them, too. Steven seems like a potential favorite. 

Toward the end of class, as people start trying to slyly pack up several minutes before the bell sounds, Steven stays still in his seat, writing in his binder, glancing up at the board now and then. He doesn’t carry a backpack, but a messenger bag. She notices him sling it across his chest when the bell does go off and then he waits patiently for everyone else to file out before stepping through the door and letting it close gently behind him.

Gentle teenagers are rare. 

She packs up, too, heads for her car. She’s still a stranger - most kids don’t meet her eye and if they do, they look away. But she’s still a teacher, so they make space for her in the hall and when she comes across a group of boys shouting and throwing balled up pieces of paper at each other, they stop and one bends over to pick up one of the balled up sheets off the ground. He shoves it in the pocket of his hoodie. 

She says nothing, pleased enough that she apparently projects an air of authority without even trying. Though, it’s likely that it’s not Sam herself they fear or respect, but the badge around her neck that marks her as faculty. 

Her car is hot and the air conditioning has been on the fritz so she rolls the windows down and idles for a while as the parking lot empties. In front of her, by a good ten rows, she see’s the dark green truck that belongs to Jack O’Neill. It’s not the only large car in the parking lot - there are a lot of SUVs and trucks - vehicles designed to withstand inclement weather - but her eyes find the familiar truck easily. 

Sam’s mother had died when she was still relatively young - not yet a teenager. She can’t imagine, now, living her life knowing that she was the reason her own mother was dead. Getting hit by a semi was bad enough. How Charlie survives the memory of killing his mother with a handgun…

She realizes after a while that the parking lot is empty. She starts the engine and pulls out of her space. She heads for home.

Janet’s house is warm and inviting. The days are starting to get shorter, but it’s still light out when she parks on the street at 6:03. She brings with her a bottle of wine. Cassandra answers the door when she rings the doorbell.

“Hey,” she says. 

“Hello,” Sam says. 

Cassie must be used to her mother being friends her teachers, because she mostly ignores Sam moving uneasily through her home and when Sam addresses her, she doesn’t seem nervous or awkward.

Janet takes the wine and opens the bottle, pulling two glasses down. When Sam sees the dining room table, she notices that it’s set for four.

“Are we expecting someone else?”

“Charlie,” Cassie says. “He comes to dinner on Tuesday nights when Coach O’Neill does his bowling league stuff.”

“Bowling?” Sam asks, surprised and amused.

“He’s like super good,” Cassie shrugs. “He and Mr. Murray are on a team together.”

“Which one is…”

“T,” Janet says. 

“Ah,” she says. 

“Charlie and I have like three classes together this year, so he’s a pretty legit study buddy," Cassie says. 

The door opens and Charlie sticks his head in.

“Hey! Study buddy!” Cassie says. “Come in.” 

“Hi,” he says. He spies Sam and makes an expression that looks just like his dad. “Hi Ms. Carter.” 

“Hi Charlie,” she says. “I hear it’s bowling night.”

“Yeah,” he says. “And taco night.”

“Hooray for Tuesday,” Cassie says, slumping into her chair. 

They chat through dinner and then Sam helps with the dishes while the kids spread their homework out across the table. 

“Second day of school,” Janet says, shaking her head. “Look at them. They’ll be at it until bedtime.” 

“That’s AP for you,” Sam says. “Can’t go easy on them.”

“My AP Biology class already drafted themselves up a study calendar for the entire year,” Janet says. “They hold each other accountable.”

“I used to write term papers on a typewriter,” Sam says. “We live in a whole new world.”

“These worksheets are the woooooorst,” Cassie complains from the other room.

“I think if Isaac Newton knew that his laws of motion would doom teenagers to decades of filling out photocopied worksheets about vector sums and frames of reference, he probably would’ve never bothered to publish his work,” Charlie says. 

“Wasn’t he like a moody recluse anyway?” Cassie asks. 

“Aren’t all scientists?” Charlie asks.

They giggle.

“So study buddy or something more?” Sam asks softly, turning away from the dining room. 

“She says no,” Janet shrugs. “They’ve grown up together. Half the time they fight like siblings.” 

“Well friendship is a pretty good basis for something more,” Sam says.

“Stop trying to marry off my sixteen year old,” Janet says. “More wine?”

“No,” she says. “I should go. It’s a school night, after all.”

Charlie is packing up his things too and walks out with her. 

“Is your dad picking you up?” Sam asks, pulling her keys out of her purse.

“I don’t live that far,” Charlie says. “I walked.”

“Let me give you a ride,” Sam says. 

“That’s okay,” he says. 

“I have an extra helmet,” she says. “I insist. It’s dark.” 

“Helmet?” he asks.

She points to the motorcycle parked by the curb.

“Whoa,” Charlie says. “Cool.”

“Come on,” she says. “I’m a very safe driver.” 

She unlocks the box on the side and pulls out her helmet and then a smaller one. Her’s is big and covers her face but the second one just protects the head. She gives the one with the face shield to Charlie and helps him fit it over his head. He flips up the visor with a grin. 

“You’re pretty cool, Ms. C.”

“I try,” she says. “Okay, backpack with both straps on tight.” 

“Got it,” he says.

“I’ll get on first,” She says, snapping the chin strap of her helmet on. “Then you climb on behind me. Put your foot here and swing over your leg.”

“Am I, uh, supposed to hold on to, uh, to you?” he asks nervously.

“You can,” she says. “But there are also these handles here for your hands.”

“Okay,” he says quickly.

“I used to ride with my nephew a lot. He’s twelve.” She smiles and gets on. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” He’s a little awkward getting on, but when she starts the bike and pulls into the street, she feels him relax a little. 

“Where am I going?” she calls.

He points when she needs to turn and points again at a stop sign. It really is only four or five blocks. He points to a house set back from the street surrounded by large trees. There’s a truck in the driveway in front of the garage. She knows that truck.

She shuts the bike off just as the front door opens and Coach O’Neill walks out. He watches his son climb off the back of the bike with a furrowed brow. She climbs off after him and takes his helmet. 

“Well, well, well,” O’Neill says. “This is a twist on an old cliche.” 

“I was at Cassie’s house,” Charlie says. He glances at Sam. “So was she.” 

“I hope you don’t mind, Coach,” Sam says. “I remembered you were a Harley man.” 

“For cryin’ out loud!” he says. “Call me Jack.”

“Jack,” she says. 

“It’s no problem,” he says. “Come on in, kiddo, it’s late. Go get ready for bed.”

“Thanks for the ride,” Charlie says and walks past his dad into the house.

“So,” Jack says. “Uh. You want some pie?”

“Oh,” she says. “No, it’s late for me too. Thanks, though.” 

He steps off the porch and comes toward her. She busies herself tucking the extra helmet away.

“It’s a lovely motorcycle,” he says. “A beauty.”

“Thank you.” Sam smiles. 

“You wanna see mine?” he asks. 

“It’s late,” she says again. 

“Another time then,” he says. 

“Deal,” she says. “See you later, Jack.”

“Goodnight.” She climbs back on the bike and drives away without looking back. 

oooo

By homecoming, Sam has stopped feeling like a complete stranger. She knows all of her students name now (six Jennifers!) and is friendly with most of the staff. She’s decided to just stick with her little apartment and find a bigger place in the summer. It’ll be easier to move, easier to look, just easier. When she makes that choice, she rents a storage unit and spends a weekend really making the little apartment livable. Without the clutter, it’s not so bad. 

The carpeting took a bit of time to get used to but now that it’s well and truly fall weather, she’s grateful for it. In California, she always wanted hardwood floors to keep her place cool but she must admit that the carpet is easier to clean. All she has to mop is the kitchen and the tiny amount of tile in the bathroom. Plus, she gets a lot of good morning light from the windows.

She misses having a garage to work in. Having all her tools in storage is not ideal. But she can wait for summer. 

Vice principal Landry drafts her to chaperone the homecoming dance. She doesn’t mind. It’s only been a couple months and she doesn’t really have much of a social life outside of school. She’s not religious, so she doesn’t join a church and she doesn’t feel like she has enough free time to join any sort of club or social society. She goes to yoga on Sunday mornings, but even though the class is often full, for her it is a solitary activity. 

Janet agrees to chaperone too, much to the dismay of Cassie. She and Sam take Cassie dress shopping. Sam will have to buy a dress, too. Something simple, but everything she has is meant for warmer weather. 

She leaves Cassie and Janet to argue over the appropriateness of backless dresses for a sixteen-year-old and wanders off into the women’s section on the next floor up. She tries on a few things but ends up buying a simple, black wrap dress with three quarter length sleeves. Not too hot for a stuffy gym but warm enough that she won’t freeze. She has a pair of heels that will go, a sweater she can put over it for the drive. 

She finds Janet and Cassie where she left them. 

“We might be awhile,” Janet says, frustration in her voice.

“Well,” Sam says. “I’ll just walk around the mall for awhile.”

“You have your cell phone?” Janet asks. Sam nods. “I’ll call when we’ve finished negotiations.”

“Godspeed,” says Sam. 

She wanders around, walking slowly and aimlessly. There’s a small bookstore and she kills fifteen minutes in there. She sees familiar faces everywhere - students who go to Liberty, but none of her own students which suits her just fine. She walks through some other clothing stores - an Ann Taylor and then the Old Navy. 

She finds herself in Sears poking around the tools, wishing again that she had the space to use the tools she already owns.

“We have to stop doing this.”

For a second, she isn’t sure if the voice is directed at her. She looks to her left and then to her right and the aisle is clear. The voice was low - almost a murmur but it’s familiar.

And then she sees him across the shelves, the next aisle over. Coach O’Neill. For a moment she feels like he’s following her. Like she can’t possibly have just run into him here - Colorado Springs is a big town. He must see it on her face, the incredulousness, because he holds up his hand.

“I was just kidding,” he says.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“Looking at tools,” he says slowly. “I assume the same as you?”

“Well,” she says, starting to feel silly. “Actually, I’m just killing time.”

“Me too,” he admits. “Charlie is looking for something to wear to the dance.” 

“Cassie and Janet are doing the same thing,” she says. “I got roped in some how.” He smiles and nods. 

“Well, nice seeing you,” he says and moves farther down his aisle. She feels a pang of guilt. He’s never been anything but welcoming and nice to her and it says a lot about her own issues with men that she immediately finds something suspect with a man being polite and kind to her.

“Hey Jack,” she says. “You want to go get a cup of coffee or something?”

He finally comes around to her aisle and tucks his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans.

“Okay,” he says. 

There’s a Starbucks on the side of the mall opposite the food court. They both order plain coffee and pay for their own orders. She drinks hers black but he adds just a little milk to his, which is strangely endearing. They sit at a small round table and watch the shoppers stroll by for a moment. 

“Daniel says you teach driver’s ed?” she asks after it seems like they’ve been quiet for too long.

“Hammond,” Jack says, shaking his head. “You can only get away with murder for so long before there are consequences.”

She smirks. 

“I bet you’re very good with them.”

“I haven’t killed any of them, if that’s what you mean.” 

“Me either, but some days come close, don’t they,” she asks. He nods grimly. 

“I have zero period drivers ed and weight training and football practice after class - by the time I get home, I’ve had it with teenagers, let me tell you.” He shrugs. “Besides Charlie.”

“How is Charlie’s football career shaping up this year?” she asks.

“I wish it was as good as his baseball career,” Jack says. “It’s like he’s not even trying.”

He probably isn’t trying very hard but Sam doesn’t point that out. They’re saved by Sam’s phone ringing.

“Excuse me,” she says, flipping it open. “Hello?”

It’s Janet and she tells her to meet her at the Starbucks and that she’s with Jack because he’s staring at her and she feels as if she must mention it. Janet asks where Charlie was shopping. Sam asks Jack.

“I don’t know,” Jack says which does not satisfy Janet but Sam can’t do much about it. They talk about the school year a little bit - mostly Jack tells her what to expect. Homecoming and the dance and some of the Liberty traditions like the holiday craft show and pep rallies. When Janet arrives, somehow they have Charlie with them.

“Dad, can we go get pizza?” asks Charlie. “Oh, hey Ms. C.”

“Hi,” she says.

“You guys want to get something to eat?” Janet asks. “We’re hungry.”

Jack looks at Sam. She feels like a fifth wheel but nods gamely, simply because she came with Janet and has no other way home. 

“I’ll order,” Jack says. “We can eat it on the deck before it gets too cold to be out there any more.”

“It’s cold now,” Cassie says. 

“I’ll light the fire,” Jack promises. 

“We can stop and pick up soda,” Janet says.

“And salad,” Sam adds. 

“I’ll call Daniel,” Jack says. “And T.” 

“I didn’t realize you guys were so close,” Sam says in the car. Cassie rides in the back with her dress. Theoretically, Sam could get her car and go home when they stop by Janet’s to drop the dress off, but it would be rude and she sort of does want to eat pizza on a deck instead of take-out alone on her love seat in her tiny apartment. Sam follows Janet and Cassie in her car so she’ll have it to go home with. Janet pulls next to the truck in Jack’s driveway. Sam parks behind a beat up old Honda. The back seat is filled with books so she figures that the car probably belongs to Daniel. There’s a Liberty Faculty Parking pass hanging from the mirror. 

They don’t go in the front door, just walk around the side of the house to the deck. It’s chilly and a little windy. Sam needs to get a warmer coat for the winter. Right now she just has a wool peacoat. She’ll need hats and gloves and scarves.

There’s a little free standing pot belly stove on the deck that puts out a surprising amount of heat. There are chairs in a semi-circle around it. Janet goes right into the kitchen. She stands awkwardly at the edge of the deck.

“Samantha Carter!” T calls. “Come, sit with me.” 

Grateful, she perches in the seat next to him, near the warm fire.

“It is a pleasure to see you at O’Neill’s home this evening,” he says. 

“You too,” she says. “You guys do this often?”

“O’Neill is my best friend,” T says. “Those close to him are close to me.” 

She chuckles. “So what am I doing here?” she asks, self-deprecatingly. 

T leans in, a very small smile on his face. “I believe you are now one of us.” 

“You may as well get comfortable,” Daniel says, flopping into the chair on her other side. He holds out a beer and she takes it. “Once Jack decides you are his friend, there is no escape.” 

“There’s a lot of mandatory friendship going around this town,” she says.

“No offense, but you seem like you need some friends,” Daniel says. 

“What?” she asks.

“Not in a sad, desperate way,” Daniel amends. 

“You appear to be lonely,” T says. “Alone.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being alone,” she says. It’s hard not to feel a little offended. She doesn’t want to be known as the weird, single, loveless lady with a hundred cats. 

“There is not,” T says. “And there is nothing wrong with spending time with us.” 

“Hey,” Jack calls, looking over at them. “Don’t be an ass to Carter, Daniel.” 

“I’m not!” he says.

“Yeah, you are,” Jack says. “You got that look on your face.”

“Oh, he just said I seem like a lonely loser, that’s all,” Sam says. 

“Ms. C is not a loser,” Charlie says. “She’s awesome. She rides a motorcycle.” Sam grins at him. 

“Thanks, Charlie,” she says. 

“Well, you are,” he mumbles. Cassie elbows him and he jabs her back. 

“Speaking of motorcycles,” she says. “I believe you have one to show me, Coach.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says.


	3. Turkey Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Magnetism, as you recall from physics class, is a powerful force that causes certain items to be attracted to refrigerators."_  
>  \- Dave Barry

The homecoming dance is surprisingly well attended. Liberty students are significantly less jaded than many of the other students at other high schools she has worked at. It’s like they want to have the typical, carefree high school experience. There are students, of course, who just keep their head down and try to get through their four years as fast as possible - Steven Lyon comes to mind - but when the dance comes around, even Steven attends.

Sam, Daniel, and Vala spend their Saturday earning overtime by helping the dance committee decorate the gym. It’s simple and sweet - balloons and crepe paper and some strings of tiny lights. The theme is “Out of this World” and there are paper stars taped to the wall and hanging from the ceiling. The school has hired a DJ and he arrives an hour early to set up. Sam sends the committee home to go put on their party attire once he arrives.

This Vala is much more fun than the coffee deprived Vala of the morning hours. She makes the kids laugh, dances around, sings, has a great decorative eye. And she grabs Sam and links their arms together like they are old friends and Sam, for some reason, believes it. It doesn’t seem insincere.

“You’re not wearing that, are you?” Vala asks her. Sam is in jeans and an oversized flannel shirt.

“No,” Sam says graciously. “I brought a change of clothes.”

“Come on then,” Vala says. “Come get ready with me.”

“What about me?” Daniel asks.

“You hold down the fort,” Vala orders. “You just have to throw on a tie to look handsome, it will take you 30 seconds.”

They gather Sam’s things from her classroom and then go to the theater. Vala’s classroom is apparently in the building adjacent to the theater but they go backstage to where there are a few large mirrors surrounded by lights and rigged dressing rooms - painted circles on the floor with curtains that close around enough space for one person - maybe two. There are racks of costumes, props, old sets.

“What play are you doing this year?” Sam asks.

“Wizard of Oz,” Vala says. “It’s a shame I have to cast students. I’d make a darling Dorothy.” 

Sam smiles. She wants to laugh but she isn’t completely sure that Vala is joking. 

“All right,” Vala says. “Show me your dress.”

When Sam pulls it out, Vala puts a knuckle to her chin. “Hmm.”

“What do you think?” Sam asks.

“We know what you’re going to wear to the funeral, but what about the dance?” Vala asks.

Sam rolls her eyes. “It’s not _my_ homecoming,” she says. “Standing out wasn’t my goal.”

“The world is your homecoming!” Vala says, throwing her arms into the air. “Never miss a chance to show off. You have a small waist, legs longer than my entire body and a bodacious chest! You should be showing it all off as much as possible!”

“While I appreciate the compliments, I’ll stick with my choice,” Sam says. “What do you have?”

“Sequins,” Vala says seriously. “Lots of it.” She grins.

oooo

It’s not exactly fun. She spends the whole night ushering couples out of dark corners, making sure no one is getting pregnant in any bathrooms or closets, and making small talk with parent chaperones who mostly want to talk about why their teenager is the best or worst teenager ever and every conversation ends with, “God, but I love them.”

Walter stands guard over the punch bowl, serving little paper cups and glaring down anyone who looks like they might be tempted to even think about spiking it. The music is horrendous and loud and by 9:45 when things start to wrap up, the whole gym smells like sweat, hormones, and acne cream. Not a pleasant combination. 

She’s so happy there is a separate batch of volunteers coming in tomorrow to clean the place up. Once the last kid is picked up, it’s almost 11:00 and she finally slips her heels off and carries them with her while they do a final walk through to make sure everything is locked and no one is hiding anywhere.

“I’m so tired,” Daniel complains. “But I’m starving.”

“Right there with you,” Sam says, and yawns.

“Come on,” Vala says. “Let’s go to Denny’s.’

“Ugh no,” Daniel says. 

“Yes, yes, my treat,” she says. “Come on, you’ll get a second wind and I want waffles.”

“It’s late,” Sam says. 

“You too, Samantha, come along.” She’s weirdly authoritative for wearing a pink sequin strapless dress and platform heels with her hair in pigtails but strangely, they both just sort of tiredly go along with it anyway. 

The Denny’s is bright and sticky and pretty busy for almost midnight. She’s worried there might be students there, but she doesn’t recognize anyone. Daniel and Vala sit across from her. She orders an egg white omelette and decaf coffee. Daniel orders a hamburger. Vala orders waffles and hot chocolate and when her hot chocolate comes, it’s covered in whipped cream and she sticks her finger into it and licks it off. 

“So,” she says, once everything is ordered and they’ve nothing to do but wait for their food. “What’s your story?”

“Yeah,” Daniel says, his chin resting in his hand. He looks tired but curious. “Spill.”

“No story,” she says. “Just Sam.” 

“Ah, rubbish,” Vala says. “You’re beautiful but unmarried, brilliant but teaching high school, and you drive a motorcycle like you’re some sort of daredevil.”

“And Jack likes you,” Daniel adds.

“Yes!” Vala says, pointing at her. “And Jack fucking hates everyone.”

“No he doesn’t,” Sam says. “He’s nice! He’s friends with Janet and T and you, Daniel.”

“No, he’s a total ass,” Daniel says. “I mean you’re right, we’re friends, but that took years.” 

“Really?” she asks, her forehead wrinkling. That description absolutely does not jive with the man she has met. 

“He’s really hard to crack,” Vala says. “He just barely tolerates me.”

“Barely,” Daniel agrees. “He’s quiet, private, and takes great pains to isolate himself.”

“But,” Sam says. “He loves his job, he loves his kid. He goes out with you guys.” She is perplexed. 

Vala shrugs.

“So what’s your story?” Daniel prompts again.

“Um, military family. We moved a lot. I decided not to join the Air Force like my brother. My dad had a hard time forgiving me for that.”

“Why?” Vala asks. 

“It would have been the easiest way for me to get into Nasa. The quickest route.” Sam sips her decaf. “Teaching high school and not being an astronaut really disappointed him.”

This is the first time she’s really spoken about her father since his death and instead of feeling sick in her stomach, each sentence makes her feel a little lighter. 

“Teaching should not be a profession that inspires disappointment,” Daniel says.

“Which is why you don’t have a classroom of your own,” Vala says. Daniel is saved having to come up with a witty reply when their food arrives.

“So,” Vala says once they’ve tucked in. “Do you like him?”

“My father?” Sam asks. “He passed away last year.”

“I’m so sorry,” Daniel says.

“My condolences as well,” Vala says. “But I was talking about Jack.” 

“Do I like Jack?” Sam asks. “Of course. He’s very nice. I don’t know him all that well, yet, but…”

“Are you _attracted_ to him?” Vala asks.

“I…” Sam stops. “I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I don’t know him well enough to form an opinion.”

“Ugh,” Vala says. “This is maddening!”

Daniel pats Vala’s arm soothingly.

oooo

On the day the first serious paper of the semester is due, it starts to snow. Every period comes in looking a little nervous, but it is only her AP class that comes in looking terrorized. Three people are absent, Trevor included. 

“Where’s your teammate, Mr. O’Neill,” Sam asks.

“Sick,” Charlie says, putting air quotes around the world.

“Too sick for practice, too?” Sam demands.

“Probably not,” Charlie says.

“I’ll just have to have a word with the coach, then,” she says. 

Everyone shifts in their seats and looks at each other.

“Okay, let’s get it over with. Hand them in,” she says. 

The papers come up to the front of the room slowly and she takes them all row by row and leaves them in a neat stack on the desk.

At the end of the day, she ushers everyone out of her classroom quickly so she can lock it behind her. She hurries to the weight training room. The football team works out for an hour before practice three days a week. She doesn’t know how those kids handle school and the grueling practice O’Neill puts them through, but most of them seem pretty gung-ho about it. 

She walks into the weight room and immediately brings her hand up to her nose. Never has she been in a place that smelled more like old sweat and feet. 

“Oh my God,” she says. 

“You get used to it,” Jack says. He’s standing in the doorway to a small closet toward the back of the room.

“Do you?” she asks.

“Sort of,” he amends. “Can I help you?”

“If Trevor Dunbar comes to practice, I’d like you to send him home,” she says.

“What?” he asks. 

“He cut my class because a paper was due today and told his friends he was sick,” Sam says. “If he’s too sick for school, he should be too sick for sports.” 

Jack rubs his face. “That puts me in a difficult situation, Carter,” he says.

“Truancy directly affects club attendance,” she says. 

“Football is not just a club,” he says. 

“And school is not just a vehicle for sports,” she says. “If he had no intention of working hard, then what the hell is he doing in my AP class?”

Their conversation is interrupted by the first few students come into the weight room. Sam takes a step back. She doesn’t remember moving toward him but she’s at the center of the room now. 

“I’ll take your request into consideration, Ms. Carter,” he says. It sounds like a dismissal. He doesn’t have to do as she asks, so she knows she’ll just lose ground if she fights him.

“Thanks,” she says, and leaves. She walks past Charlie on the way out. 

oooo

She remembers to set her alarm for an hour earlier than usual. It puts her wake up time at five in the morning, but she’s always slow to get going in cold weather. She lingers in the shower and keeps her blow dryer on far past when her hair is dry. She parks her car in a carport so she doesn’t have to scrape snow off it, but it’s still treacherous getting out of the complex and onto the salted roads. 

It’s not much snow, not enough to cancel school but it’s enough to slow everything down. Her nose is running when she gets to work and by the first break, her throat feels scratchy. She scraps her plan to lecture and has them work in groups instead while she sits at her desk and sips at tea.

At lunch, she stays in her classroom and picks at her leftovers from last night. She closes her eyes for just a moment and then is startled to hear the bell that signals the end of lunch. During her impromptu nap, her nose has started to run. 

She blows it as the first group of kids pour in carrying armfuls of puffy jackets and scarves trailing behind them. 

“You okay?” asks a girl named Patricia. She’s small, like really small. Comically small - and has flaming red hair and glasses. She’s quiet and cares enough about physics to do well in the class but will never study it in college, never make a career out of it. She’s quiet and watches everything around her with big eyes. 

“Fine, thank you,” she says. 

“Because you kind of look like you might fall over,” Patricia says. “Like, imminently.” 

“A little head cold,” Sam concedes. “I’ll make it through the day.”

“Okay,” she says.

“If I do collapse in a heap, feel free to call the nurse though,” Sam adds.

“Noted,” she says with a nod and sits in her seat. She sits in the second row behind the more unabashedly academic students - the students who may never actually leave college. They will get Masters degrees, doctorates, and then teach, drifting from university to university, seeking out tenure. That was Sam once. Three quarters through her doctorate and then-

“Ms. Carter?”

She looks up. Cassie is waving her hand exaggeratedly over her head. 

“What?” Sam asks.

“Are you going to teach us something today or what?” Cassie demands.

She passes out their packets, explains the project amidst the chorus of both groans and happy sounds at the idea of a group project. Cassie looks pleased enough about it and Charlie looks like he knows he’s going to be doing the brunt of the work.

“It’s all in-class,” she assures them. “You ought to be able to finish today. Anything you don’t is due in class tomorrow. Got it?”

While they work, she emails Principal Hammond that she’ll need a substitute for the morning because she will not be coming in tomorrow. By the time the final bell rings, she feels dizzy and lightheaded. Her face feels warm and her fingers cold and she feels like walking from her chair to her car and then driving home and then walking from her car up the stairs to her second story apartment is literally an impossible feat. 

She’s managed to get out of her chair and is fumbling with her keys to lock the door behind her when she hears voices in the hall.

“Hey,” says a voice. “You okay?” 

She looks up, her vision swaying a bit. Two blurry figures slowly come into focus. Charlie O’Neill and his father.

“Shouldn’t you two be at practice?” she says, her voice sounding a little hoarse, even to her own ears. 

“It’s snowing,” Charlie says. 

“I canceled it for today,” Jack says. “You all right, Carter?”

“I think I’m getting a cold,” she shrugs. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re all flushed,” Jack says. “And you’re leaning against the wall.”

“Conserving my energy for the walk to the car,” she says. “I’m okay.”

“We’ll walk you to your car,” Charlie says. “Right dad?”

“My chivalrous son,” Jack says. 

Sam doesn’t feel like she’s walking slow but they both keep shooting concerned looks at her and just before they walk out of the school and into the cold, Charlie takes her bag and her purse from her and puts them over his own shoulder. He’s just about her height. They pass Jack’s truck in the faculty lot. 

By the time they get to Sam’s car, she’s coughing in a way that make her whole rib cage ache and her nose is running. 

Jack tosses Charlie a set of keys and Charlie catches them.

“Follow us,” Jack says. Charlie nods and heads back to the truck, handing the bags back to Sam. “Gimme your keys, Carter.”

“It’s Sam,” she says. “And I can drive myself.”

“Yeah, but I’ll worry,” he says. She’s so tired that she just shoves her purse and him and leans against the freezing car, letting the metal soothe the burn crawling around inside of her. He fishes around and finally pulls out some keys. Sam collapses into the passengers seat when he unlocks the door.

He scoots the seat back, adjusts the mirrors while the defrost works. She hands him the windshield scraper from the floor by her feet and he scrapes at the window enough to see out of and gets back in the car. By the time they’re ready to go, Charlie is idling in the truck behind them.

“Charlie is fifteen,” Sam manages.

“He’s a good driver,” Jack says. “Has his permit.”

“Your truck, your son,” she says, letting her head rest against the window. Jack must remember where she lives because he doesn’t ask for directions and it’s not a long ride. Soon they are pulling up to the gate that protects her complex. 

“Garage door opener,” she mumbles.

“The old G-D-O, got it,” he says, pushing the button clipped to her visor. The gate opens. He pushes it a few more times, making sure it stays open long enough that Charlie can pull through too. “Do you have a designated parking space?”

“28,” she says. “Don’t tell Walter.”

“Huh?” he asks.

“Never mind,” she says. 

“Where can Charlie park?” he asks. 

“Visitors space,” she says. “Anything uncovered.” 

Jack rolls down the window and points and then drives slowly until he finds her space and easily pulls into it, even though it’s a tight fit with a sharp turn.

“You’re a good driver,” she says.

“You should see me fly an airplane,” he quips.

“Okay,” she says. He blinks at her a few times and then kills the engine.

“Let’s get you home,” he says. 

There’s not much farther to go, but they they both faithfully follow her into the complex, up the stairs, down the long corridor to her little apartment. She’s not had guests before. She’s naturally pretty neat - a military father demands neatness - but she’s not sure everything is safe for the eyes of males. She reaches into her pocket before she realizes that not only does she not have her keys, she’s still not even carrying her purse.

“Allow me,” Jack says and unlocks the deadbolt and then the door handle, pushing open the door for her. She’d left the heat on and the wall of warmth against her face feels heavenly. 

“God,” she says. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Ms. C,” Charlie says. “Feel better.”

“You want to come in?” she asks. “I probably have some… water I could give you.” 

“Tempting,” Jack says. “But you need rest. I hope you’re not planning on coming in tomorrow?”

“No,” she says. “I already told George I wouldn’t be in.”

“Okay,” he says. “Take care. Come on, kiddo.”

He touches his hand to his son’s shoulder. She watches them for a few seconds and then shuts the door and locks it. In the bedroom, she drops her coat, crawls out of most of her clothes and into her bed where she sleeps and sleeps. 

oooo

There’s a knock on her door. 

She’s certainly on the mend, but after two days of barely leaving her bed, let alone her apartment, she knows she looks like she’s been run over. She pulls the blanket around her shoulders, attempts to pat down her hair, and walks to the door. It looks like… T?

She pulls open the door.

“Samantha Carter,” he says. “Are you feeling well?”

“Sort of,” she says. “What are you doing here?

“I volunteered to bring you soup,” he says, holding out a carton. It looks like take out, smells delicious. 

“Wow,” she says. “Thank you.”

“You will be returning to school tomorrow, I hope,” he says. 

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ll be there.” Tomorrow is Friday - she can make it through one day and then finish up resting over the weekend.

“That is extremely good news,” he says. 

“I’m flattered,” she says. “Did something happen?”

“Your substitute is a man named Rodney McKay,” T says. “He is extremely unpleasant. No one likes when he comes to Liberty.”

“Oh, I see,” she smiles. “So not exactly about me.”

“We miss you as well,” T adds. “But we truly dislike Rodney.”

“Well rest assured,” she says. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you for the soup.”

“It was Coach O’Neill’s idea,” he says. “I will pass your message of gratitude along.”

The soup is still hot, hearty and soothing on her raw throat. She eats it slowly, wiping her nose and watching the news on her little television. She emails back her brother - prints out the school pictures he’d sent of the kids and sticks them to her refrigerator door. 

Finally, she digs through the little filing cabinet she keeps in the corner of the living room because there’s nowhere else to put it, and pulls out the photocopy of the staff directory that she’d made. She runs her fingernail along the list of names until she finds what she’s looking for. 

_O’Neill, Jonathan_

It lists his office number, his work email, and his home number as well as his address. She picks the cordless phone up off the cradle and holds it in her hand for awhile. The polite thing would be to call him and thank him for sending her soup. It would be wrong not to call. Of course - she could tell him tomorrow, but if she’d brought him soup instead of the other way around, she’d be worried about whether or not he liked it.

She dials and it rings once, twice, three times - oh thank god he isn’t home - once more and then-

“Hello?”

“Hi,” she says. It isn’t him. It’s Charlie. “May I speak to Coach O’Neill please?”

“Sure, hang on,” he says. And then, sounding farther away but still loud, “DAD! PHONE!”

She hears Jack distantly. “WHO IS IT?”

“SOME LADY,” Charlie calls. And then, “Who are you?”

“It’s Ms. Carter,” she says, amused. 

“Oh!” he says. “Hang on. DAD! IT’S MS. CARTER.”

Immediately the connection clicks. “I GOT IT,” she hears and then Jack says, “Hello?”

“You two have worked out an efficient system,” she says, once she’s heard that Charlie has hung up the other phone. 

“What can I say, we’re timeless,” he says. “Nothing as good as the old ways.” 

“So, you sent me soup,” he says.

“Well, I mean, I’m pretty sure T brought you soup,” he says.

“T brought it, but he said it was your doing. What are you doing sending me soup?” she asks. 

“Um.”

“Well,” she says, scrunching up her face. “That may have come out a little more hostile than intended.”

“A little,” he agrees.

“Thanks for the soup, Coach,” she says. 

“You coming to work tomorrow?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says.

“Thank GOD,” he says.

“I hear there’s someone name Rodney running my classroom,” she says.

“Running it into the ground more like,” Jack says. “Charlie said that he spent 20 minutes calling them morons because they couldn’t, like, invent cold fusion on the spot.” 

“What?” she asks. “They’re kids!”

“Rodney is an ass,” he says. “Please come back.”

“I’ll be there,” she says. There’s a pause. “Anyway, I was just calling to say thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Carter,” he says. “Even though I didn’t do much.”

“You’ve been very… welcoming to me,” she says. “You’ve made Liberty feel like home.” 

“Well, we all want you to stick around,” he says. “Don’t let the snow scare you off.”

“I like snow,” she says. “I just don’t like head colds.”

“Do you ski?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says. “Well, I mean, not as much as I want. I haven’t gone in maybe two years. But I like to ski.”

“Charlie and I go as much as we can,” he says. “Do you have your own skis?”

“In storage,” she says.

“We’ll have to go some time,” he says. “I’ve been trying to get Cassie to learn. Maybe if you go, she’ll come too.” 

“And Janet?” Sam asks. Jack laughs.

“Janet does not ski,” he says. “She’s not outdoorsy.”

“That’s part of the reason I moved to Colorado. Hiking, skiing, all the things you can do outdoors here.”

“There are some great trails around Cheyenne Mountain,” he says. 

“I look forward to trying them out,” she says. “I should go. Thanks again for the soup.” 

“My pleasure. See ya tomorrow.”

They hang up and only then does she realize that he’d invited her both skiing and hiking. Nothing concrete, but more of solid plan than before she’d called. She also has the unspoken promise to help him with his motorcycle. Taking the rust off alone will be quite the job.

How does she keep getting tangled up with this man?

oooo

It’s the last day before Thanksgiving break. She’s going to San Diego for Christmas, so financially, it doesn’t make sense to go for Thanksgiving too. It’s all well and good. Denver Airport at the holidays is always a mad house, and she doesn’t like to take-off or land on icy runways. 

Janet invites her over for Thanksgiving and she accepts because it’s the only invitation she’s received.

“We do it at Jack’s,” Janet says after she’s already accepted. “More space.”

“Wait, who is we?” she asks.

“Me and Cassie, Jack and Charlie, Daniel, T, Jonas, probably Vala,” she says. “You know. The gang.”

“The gang,” she says, uneasily.

“Of which you are a part,” Janet assures her. “Do you have other plans?”

“No,” she says.

“Good. Then it’s settled,” Janet says. “It’ll be fun.”

“Can I bring something?” she asks.

“You can help me cook, are you kidding me?” Janet says. 

Sam smiles nervously. “Great.”

She knows not a lot about cooking. She can microwave and she can bake - baking is just science. But she’s never cooked a turkey, never even mashed potatoes. She likes to think she can do it, she just has no interest in it. What’s the point of cooking for one?

Sam brings three bottles of wine when she arrives at Janet’s house early Thursday morning. Cassie is still asleep, her bedroom door closed tightly. 

“Three?” Janet asks, taking the bag. 

“Two for dinner,” she says. “One is an apology.”

“What for?” Janet asks.

“My culinary abilities,” she says. Janet doesn’t dignify that with an answer, just rolls her eyes.

They spend the morning baking three pies - pumpkin, apple, and pecan. Then, when the pies have cooled enough for transport, they climb in Janet’s car and drive the short distance to Jack’s house. 

Sam was 15 when she lost her mother, 30 when her father passed away. She doesn’t exactly feel like an orphan - the word orphan conjures up images of dirty, neglected children, but she can’t help feeling like one on this Thanksgiving. Jack’s house is steamy and warm, filled with good smells and happy people. She’s had two glasses of wine and is wearing a borrowed apron. It’s a perfect fit - too short for Jack, probably. She hopes it didn’t belong to his dead wife. It’s a pale green and stiff in the way that suggests good construction, not newness. 

Outside, there are patches of snow on the ground, but the sky is clear and the sun is shining. The temperature hovers around 45 degrees. Jack stays out on the deck. He’s barbecuing the turkey, freeing up the oven for side dishes. Cassie and Charlie are planted in front of the television playing video games. T stands out with Jack and she and Janet and Daniel work in the kitchen. Janet and Daniel are arguing about corn bread versus regular stuffing and Sam sits at the small table on the other side of the counter, quietly peeling potatoes over a paper bag.

She doesn't feel left out, just separate somehow. They all seem like a cobbled together family and though she’s here, she can’t seem to figure out how to be a real part of it. 

The slider opens and lets some cool air into the warm kitchen.

“Smells good,” Jack says, coming in.

“Just onions in the pan,” Janet says. “We’re still hours away.”

“I think I’m going for a beer run,” he says. “Need anything?”

“Oh good, I started a list,” Janet says. “You said this kitchen would be stocked!”

“It is,” he grumbles glancing at the list she hands him. “Two pounds of butter? Celery… what the hell is cream of tartar?” 

“In the spice aisle,” Janet says. 

“You’d better come with me, Carter,” he says, his eyes pleading. She stands, unties the apron.

“I don’t know anything about cooking,” she warns. “But sure.” Getting out of the house might help snap her out of her internal ennui. 

“You kids want to go to the store?” Jack calls.

“On Thanksgiving? Hell no,” says Cassie.

“Zombies won’t kill themselves, dad,” Charlie says. Sam pulls the apron over her head and lays it over the back of her chair. She tugs her sweater down a little. Her purse and coat are by the door. 

“You’re driving,” she says as she shrugs into the coat and shoulders her purse. 

Cassie was right - the store is both crowded and picked over. Jack carries a little basket while Sam tosses in things like butter and various vegetables. 

“You’re quiet,” he says. 

“Just thinking.” She consults the list, though she’s already memorized it. “Family holidays are always weird when you don’t have much family left.”

“Ah,” he says. “I thought you had a brother?”

“I do,” she amends. “But I’m much closer to his wife than I am to him. I’ll see them for Christmas.”

“I have Charlie,” Jack says. “I was an only child and Sara had one much older half-sister, so Charlie doesn’t really have cousins or grandparents or anything.” 

“That’s too bad.” 

She locates the cream of tartar in among the spices and tosses it in the basket.

“Daniel has no family, Vala either. T’s son lives up in Quebec and he doesn’t get to see Ryan very often.”

“We’re a bunch of misfits,” Sam says.

“Maybe,” he allows. “But put a bunch of misfits together and you get a different sort of family.”

“Wow,” she says. “I didn’t know you were such a sap!”

“Don’t tell,” he orders. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“We’ll see,” she says, promising nothing.

“It doesn’t have to be hard, you know.” he says. “Getting to know us, I mean. Trusting us.”

“Okay,” she says. “Maximum feelings talk achieved. Where’s the beer?”

“Aisle 17,” he says. She stares at him. “What? I like beer.”

As they’re staring at the beer she says, “I do trust you.”

“Good,” he says. “I’m a trustworthy guy.” 

She smiles but she has to force it a little. She trusts them, she just doesn’t feel trustworthy herself. She feels like she doesn’t deserve to be part of a family. She disappointed her father by not joining the military and choosing a low paying career, disappointed her brother by moving away from him and his family, even though he was never around. She’s not sure she can stand to disappoint another family.

“Guinness?” he asks. 

“Okay,” she agrees.

He hands her the basket and picks up a case for each hand.

“That much?” she asks.

“Hey,” he says. “Vala and Jonas haven’t even arrived yet.”

“True,” she says. “Vala.”

“Vala,” he says, gravely.

“I should grab one more, shouldn’t I?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, you should.”


	4. Winter Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Energy is neither created nor destroyed. It just changes shape.”_  
>  ― Sheri Reynolds

“Food coma,” Jonas manages. And that’s all. He doesn’t say anything else. It’s astonishing. Sam has never heard him be so brief. 

“Ugh,” Cassie groans. “I don’t feel good.”

“You ate three pieces of pie,” Charlie says. “No kidding.” He’s still chipping away at those zombie, the controller seemingly a permanent fixture in his hand. Jack made him mute the sound so now, all they hear is the soft click of the buttons. They are sprawled out all over the living room - Vala, T, and Jack on the sofa, Jonas on one arm chair, Daniel on another, dozing softly. The kids are on the floor, Janet is standing over the floor vent, letting the warm air thaw her toes. Sam sits in front of the fire on the little stone ledge, her back hot to the touch but the rest of her still chilled. The sun has started to set and the temperature is dropping fast. The sky stays clear though and she hopes they won’t get snow until after Christmas. 

“I want to go home,” Cassie says. And she does look a little sweaty and green.

“Okay,” Janet says, looking a little concerned. “Let’s go.” 

Cassie barely makes out the sliding glass door before she heaves up her dinner over the railing of the deck.

“Uh, nasty,” Charlie says, finally pausing his game. 

“Poor thing,” Sam murmurs. She stands, gathers up Cassie’s coat, and Janet’s and finds Janet’s purse and their boots and brings everything out to them.

“Thanks,” Janet says, a wrinkle of concern deep in her forehead. 

“I’ll come get my car later, go on,” Sam says. 

When they’re gone, Sam comes back and all the guys look mildly grossed out and concerned. Vala just looks grossed out. She’s moved from the couch to Daniel’s chair where she’s sitting on him awkwardly - a vantage from which she cannot see the sliding doors or the deck.

“Is she gone?” Vala asks, ignoring Daniel’s grunt of discomfort at having a full grown person sitting on his post-thanksgiving meal stomach. 

“Yeah,” Sam says.

“Food poisoning?” Vala asks, her eyes wide. 

“I doubt it,” Jack says. “I think she just over did it.”

“She drank a beer,” Charlie says. 

“What?” Jack demands.

“You little narc,” Vala accuses. “She’s your friend!”

“Vala!” Jack says. “Jesus.”

“I told her not to,” Charlie shrugs. “Lesson learned.”

“Dude, harsh,” says Vala. 

“Charlie, would you get off that thing for a while?” Jack says. “I’m sick of it.”

“Fine,” Charlie says and pauses it, tosses the remote down, and marches upstairs. A few moments later, they hear a door slam.

“What the hell was that all about?” asks Daniel, finally shoving Vala off of him. She perches on the arm of his recliner.

“Teenagers,” Jonas says. 

“You practically are a teenager,” Jack says. “Shut up.” 

“Everyone shut up,” Daniel says. “I’m trying to nap.”

“I think I’ll go,” Sam says. The cozy atmosphere had evaporated with Cassie’s vomit and it has started to get dark and really cold. 

“Take some leftovers,” Jack says.

“Thanks, but I have to walk, so,” she says. “I’d rather not carry them.”

“What?” Vala says. “Jonathan, you can give her a ride!”

“It’s just a few blocks,” Sam says. “I’ll be fine.”

“I can take you,” Jonas says, making no effort to move. He only opens one eye.

“No,” Sam says.

“I will escort you, Samantha Carter,” says T.

“This is all very tempting, but no,” she says. “Thank you for a wonderful time. You were a great host, Jack.”

He winces, shifts from foot to foot and scratches the back of his head. “The thing of it is… I wouldn’t be a good host if I let you walk.”

“It’s a five minute walk!” she says.

“It’s 19 degrees,” he says back. 

“Why do you all try to protect me all the time?” she demands.

“Because we don’t let people down or leave them behind,” Jack says. “That isn’t how teams work.”

“I’m not on your football team,” she says, her hands on her hips. “You’re not my coach.”

There’s a heavy silence. Jonas looks at his feet; Vala inspects her nail beds. 

“Sam,” Daniel says, finally, pushing his glasses up and rubbing his tired eyes. “Get in the truck or we’ll put you there.” There’s something menacing about his soft tone.

She looks around the room and realizes everyone thinks she’s being ridiculous. “Fine.”

She puts on her coat and stomps out the front door. It’s freezing cold and it hits her hard - she realizes it would have been a long walk in this weather, but she’ll never admit it. Jack unlocks the truck so she can climb inside. When he gets in, he takes his time buckling in and adjusting his mirrors.

“So,” he says. “Is arguing like a hobby for you?”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I just… don’t want to be a burden.”

“That’s the first stupid thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he says and starts the truck.

oooo

It’s the third day Patricia Fleming has been absent. 

“Cass?” Sam asks, pointing to the empty desk beside her. 

Cassie shrugs one shoulder. “We’re not really friends.” 

“Charlie?” she asks. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “She’s sick a lot.”

“Yo, Ms. C,” says Trevor. “Tricia is like, always sick.” 

“Yes,” Sam says. “Thank you, Trevor.”

“No, I mean, she’s _sick_ ,” Trevor says. “She has some old lady disease.” 

“Oh,” Sam says. “Okay. Thanks, Trevor. And way to come to class on quiz day. Good job.”

“Coach O’Neill don’t mess around,” says Trevor. “Shit.” 

She gives them ten minutes to cram for the final time and orders all notes away and then passes out the quiz. They have to get used to taking timed quizzes with the AP test at the end of the year. She doesn’t give nearly so many in her other classes and they know it, complaining fruitlessly but continuously. 

During her prep period, she calls Patricia’s house and leaves a message on the machine. 

“This is Samantha Carter, Patricia’s AP Physics teacher from Liberty High School. Just checking in - she hasn’t been to class in three days and I wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

At the end of the school day, as the kids are pouring out, there is a tall man trying to get in, like a salmon swimming upstream. He is tall, young, broad chested. He looks a little too old to be a Liberty student. He’s wearing a University of Colorado hoodie and has hair a deep, chestnut red.

“Hello?” he says.

“Hi,” she says. “What can I do for you?”

“My name is Brad Fleming,” he says. “I’m Trish’s brother.”

“Ah,” Sam says. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever see her again.”

“I have her assignments,” he says, handing her a folder. 

“Thanks,” Sam says, taking it. “But she missed a quiz today.”

“Yeah, she’s supposed to talk to all her teachers at the beginning of the year, but she never does,” he says. “Trish has Lupus.” 

“Oh,” Sam says. “That’s too bad.”

“She has good days and bad,” he says. “She gets this rash on her face and doesn’t like to come to school with it. But I think she’ll be in tomorrow.”

“We can probably find some time to make up her quiz,” Sam says. “Thanks, Brad.” 

“No prob,” he says, and walks out the door. 

She stays in her classroom grading for awhile, thinking about her students and all the secrets they might be harboring. Patricia Flemming’s autoimmune disease, Charlie’s dead mother. What makes Trevor so loud-mouthed and obnoxious, even though he has one of the highest grades in the class. What makes Steven so quiet, quiet to the point that when she calls on him and he has to speak in front of the entire, quiet class, he has a slight stutter. 

She tries to remember her high school years, but after her mother died, her memories get pretty fuzzy. That, plus moving every year… she feels like her life didn’t really start until college. 

Patricia does come to school the next day, though she uses a cane. Her classmates stare but say nothing. She has heavy make up over her cheeks and looks powdery and frail. 

“I met your brother,” Sam says, trying not to look too sympathetic as Patricia eases herself into her chair.

“He spilled my secret,” she says. 

“You should’ve told me,” Sam says. “I could have accommodated you.”

“I don’t want accommodations,” she says. “I just want to be treated normally.” 

“Okay,” Sam says. “If you see your semester grade and want to reconsider that, let me know and we’ll schedule your make up quiz.”

Patricia scowls and says nothing.

oooo

Sam’s flight to San Diego gets delayed and then cancelled due to the storm in Denver. It’s just as well. She’s disappointed about not seeing her nice and nephew, her brother and sister-in-law, but she hates traveling at Christmas and they grounded her flight before she’d arrived at the airport, so she just turns around and makes her way slowly home.

It’s a weird sort of weight off. She can have a quiet Christmas in her little apartment. She can sleep in late, drink coffee indulgently into the afternoon, catch up on her backlogged stack of pleasure reading, maybe do a little shopping if she feels up to battling the crowds. Everyone thinks she’s gone - she won’t be disturbed.

The next morning her land line rings and she ignores it. Her cell rings shortly after - it’s Janet.

“Hello?” she says.

“How is sunny California?” Janet asks. 

“Oh,” Sam says uneasily. “So sunny.”

“YOU LIAR,” Janet says. “I know your flight got canceled.” 

“Fine,” she says. “Though I do think the weather is nice in San Diego so technically I didn’t lie.”

“You sound like my daughter,” Janet accuses. 

“What do you want from me?” Sam asks.

“You can’t spend Christmas alone,” Janet says. 

“Please don’t worry about it,” Sam says. “I couldn’t possibly intrude on your family Christmas.”

“No,” Janet says. “But you certainly could intrude on Jack’s.”

“Absolutely not.” Sam feels strangely adamant about this. There must be something in her tone because Janet backs right off. 

“Fine, fine,” she says. “But call if you get lonely.”

The next day, however, her land line rings and it’s Jack. 

“A little bird told me that your trip got canceled,” he says. 

“I wonder which bird that was,” Sam says. 

“Well anyway,” Jack says. “Charlie and I always go skiing on Christmas Eve, and you and I talked about… doing the skiing thing once. I thought maybe you’d like to come along?”

“Skiing?” she asks. 

“It’s not really even very Christmas-y,” he promises. “We’re not that… into the spirit.” 

“Oh,” Sam says. “Yeah. I could ski.”

“Great,” Jack says. “How about we swing by and pick you up. We tend to leave early… around 5:00.”

“I’ll be here,” she says. “See you guys then.”

She replaces the phone on the cradle and then wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans.

oooo

She’s awake when Charlie rings the doorbell, her skis leaning against the wall by the window. She’d had to liberate them from her storage unit and is looking forward to getting out on the slopes again. She hopes she doesn’t make a fool of herself. 

Charlie wordlessly picks up her skis and carries them down to the truck that waits just outside the gates. Sam stops at her car to let the truck in and the Jack double parks behind her car while they load. It’s cold now, still dark, but it’ll be colder at the higher elevation. Charlie crawls into the backseat of the truck and leaves the front for Sam. Jack hands her a Starbucks cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” she says. 

The radio is on low, morning news interrupted by the occasional holiday carol. The O’Neill men are clearly not morning people. Sam turns around once to look at Charlie and he’s already asleep, his head against the window. Jack is quiet too, focused on the road. It’s not that far - they go to the Cheyenne Mountain resort, but getting up the mountain is slow going this early, before all the plows make it around and there is considerable holiday traffic getting out of town. Sam doesn’t feel like she should fill the silence. She sips at her coffee, just a little sweetened, and watches the snowy landscape as they drive.

Jack glances up at his rearview mirror and then over at her. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for having me,” she says, matching is low and soft tone. 

“My knees aren’t what they used to be,” he says. “I hope you won’t think less of me if I take it easy today.” 

“I haven’t skied in a while,” she says. “I could use an easy start.”

“Charlie snowboards,” Jack says. “He’s really good. We will hardly see him all day.”

“Ah,” she says. “Yeah, if I were him, I wouldn’t want to hang out with my teacher all day either.”

“I can hear you guys,” Charlie says, and then yawns. It shuts them up, though Jack rolls his eyes. “Dad?”

“Yeah?” he says.

“I think Jason and his family are coming up today. Can I board with them?” Charlie asks, a hopeful note in his voice.

“Yes, but you have to eat with us, okay?” Jack says.

“Okay,” Charlie agrees. 

When they park, Sam pulls her gloves and her hat out of the large pocket of her coat and puts everything on. It’s cold, but she’s so bundled up, it doesn’t feel bad. 

Skiing is a solitary sport when they get all geared up. Jack never strays too far, but it’s still just her, gliding across the snow, the frigid air in her face and her thoughts to herself. She takes a couple falls early on and then gets her bearings once more and doesn’t fall again. Jack is a good skier, that much is clear, but he tires out around 11:00, and they take a break to warm up inside and give their bodies a rest. 

They sit at the bar and it feels like she sheds a skin with she takes off all her warm things. Jack’s face is tan and his cheeks are rosy - he looks healthy and strong and she feels a little tug at the bottom of her stomach, like control is slipping away. 

“I feel like a hot toddy,” he says, and she nods.

“That sounds good,” she says. 

“Charlie should be in at noon for lunch. Is that too much time to wait?” he asks. “For food?”

“I don’t think so,” Sam says. “Or if you’re really hungry, we could get an appetizer.”

"We could!" he agrees. 

“What did you have in mind?” she asks, pulling the little menu toward her. “You seem pretty familiar with this place.”

“How do you feel about cheese dip?” he asks.

“I feel really good about all kinds of cheese,” she says. 

“The spinach and artichoke dip is really good,” he says. 

“And good for you, I bet,” she says.

“How many calories did we just burn? We’ve earned it!”

“Hey, you don’t have to twist my arm,” she says. “I’m in.”

When the bartender comes around, he orders the dip and their drinks and she asks for water. 

“Daniel said you wouldn’t come with me,” Jack says, once they’ve settled a little bit. 

“Skiing?” she asks. He nods. “You were talking to Daniel about me?”

“I was talking about holiday plans,” he says. She smirks. 

“Why did Daniel think that?”

“He thinks you don’t really like me,” Jack says. 

“No, he’s just trying to goad you into saying that you like me,” Sam says. “He’s trying to outsmart you.”

“Oh,” Jack says. “Well, I can’t say I approve of that.” 

“I like you just fine,” she says, raising her glass, which is now mostly empty. “For the record.”

“Consider it recorded,” he says. He smiles at her, not a big one, more like the corner of his mouth twitching upward. She feels like leaning in a little, but doesn’t let herself. And it’s just as well, because when she finally looks away from him, she sees a medic and a teenage boy walking straight for them at a hurried pace.

“Jack,” she says, uneasily.

Jack follows her line of sight and then frowns. He stands up and says, “Jason? Where’s Charlie?”

“He hit his head,” Jason says.

“Your son is in the infirmary,” the medic says. Jack looks back at her.

“Go, I’ll meet you there,” she promises, worry wiping anyway any feeling of warmth and contentment they may have fostered. 

Sam settles the bill and the bartender gives her directions to the infirmary. When she gets there she says, “Charlie O’Neill?”

“You must be the mom,” a female medic says and waves her in.

“Uh,” she says, trying to figure out how to explain herself, but then she sees Jack and Charlie and Jason and his worried looking parents and sister all hovering around. Charlie has a big knot on his head that has a cut. Blood has dripped down his face and into his collar. 

“Oh my god!” she says. “Are you okay?”

“I hit my head,” he says, looking a little woozy and glassy eyed. The male medic sits next to him, trying to clean his cut. 

“Apparently he took off his helmet,” Jason’s father says. “They went up for another run, we didn’t go with them. Jack, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Paul,” Jack says. “Charlie is the one _stupid_ enough to take a run with no helmet.”

Charlie doesn’t react except to wince when the medic fashions the bandage over his cut. 

“My suggestion is that you take him to the Emergency Room just to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion,” the medic says. 

“I’m okay,” Charlie says. “I think. I lost my footing and there was a rock under the snow.” 

“That your damn helmet would’ve protected you from! Jesus, Charlie!”

“Where’s your board, Charlie?” Sam asks.

“We’ll take care of all of that, don’t worry,” says Jason’s mom. 

“You feel like you can walk?” the medic asks Charlie.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Paul says, but of course it’s Christmas Eve and what can they do?

Charlie leans on his dad as they walk and they make it all the way to the parking lot before he leans over and throws up on the pavement. Sam tries not to jump back, though she does, a little, to avoid getting splattered. 

“You okay?” Jack asks, his face lined with concern. 

“Yeah,” he says. “My head hurts.”

“I bet,” Jack says. “You hit it against a rock.”

“Why don’t you go get the truck. We’ll wait right here,” she says, taking Charlie’s arm and leading him to the retaining wall that surrounds the parking lot. They sit on it and she fishes around for a napkin in her pocket to hand him. He takes one gratefully and wipes his mouth while Jack disappears.

“I was stupid,” Charlie says.

“It happens,” Sam says. “Lesson learned?”

“Yeah,” Charlie says. “I didn’t want Jason to think I was a wimp.”

“You aren’t a wimp,” Sam says. 

“It was wimpy to let him convince me to take off my helmet,” he says. Sam can’t argue that point. “Where’s my dad?”

Sam’s brow wrinkles in concern. She dips her head to check his eyes. “He went to get the truck. He’ll be right back and then we’re going to the doctor.”

“Okay,” Charlie says.

They spend the drive down the mountain and back into town keeping Charlie awake and then the emergency room, crowded on the eve of a big holiday, takes a long time. Sam ends up spending almost an hour alone, sitting in the waiting room once Charlie and Jack get into see someone. She buys herself a bag of chips from a vending device and a couple bottles of water. 

Eventually, Jack comes back out. She hands him a bottle of water and says, “How is he?”

“We’re still waiting for results,” he says. “I think it’s going to be a few hours more. Why don’t you take the truck home.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“We can take a cab,” he says.

“I can take a cab,” she says. “Or I can stay with you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” he says. “Already this day has gone down the crapper.”

“You aren’t asking me, I’m offering,” she says. “Tell you what, I’ll take the truck and go get some real food.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Okay.” 

She picks up burritos. She gets one for Charlie, too, though she isn’t sure whether or not he can eat it. Jack is waiting for her when she comes back and they go to the cafeteria to eat the food. Charlie is under observation for the next couple hours and is finally allowed to get some rest. 

“Thanks, Carter,” he says. “I… thanks.”

“Hey,” she says. “What are friends for?”

oooo

She sleeps in late, really late, only getting up when her family calls from California to wish her a merry Christmas. She’s still in her pajamas, nursing a pot of coffee at noon when someone rings her doorbell. Maybe it’s carolers. Maybe it’s her downstairs neighbor who always has his television on too loud, or the family across the hall with the baby who is always bundled so tightly in its stroller that she can only ever see its eyes. 

She pulls on a hooded sweatshirt and opens the door, blinking.

“Merry Christmas,” Daniel says, holding out a bottle of booze. 

“Um,” she says. 

“Can I come in?”

“Uh,” she says, and steps aside. “Sure.”

“You’re wondering what I’m doing here,” he says.

“Kind of,” she says.

“Jack told me about yesterday,” he says. “I just wanted to say thanks.”

“Okay?” she asks. 

“I mean Jack and Charlie are like family to me, so I appreciate you showing them kindness,” he says. 

She sets the bottle down, a flavored liqueur, and says flatly, “You want some coffee?” Daniel can be a tad off-putting and it’s hard not to be at least slightly offended that he’d assume that she wouldn’t do the kind thing, given the chance. 

“Sure,” he says. 

She watches him out of the corner of her eye while she pours him a mug. “Cream?”

“Black is fine,” he says. 

“I have a phone,” she says, handing it to him.

“Well, I thought it might be tacky to try to pour your Christmas gift through the phone,” he says, with a shrug. They sit at the little table next to her kitchenette. “Two bedroom?”

“One,” she says, looking behind her toward the bedroom. The door is open and she can see her rumpled bed; the wall of boxes. 

“Small,” he says. 

“Finding a new place is one of my summer projects,” she says. “I didn’t have time, before.”

“I have a condo,” he says. “Two bedroom. It’s okay. Downtown.”

“You like it down there?” she asks. 

“Kind of,” he says. “I like it more than I like moving.” 

“What are you really doing here?” she asks.

“I was going to go see how Charlie is doing. I thought maybe you’d want to come.”

“On Christmas?” she asks. “You don’t have somewhere to be?”

“My parents are dead,” he says. “I’m an only child.” 

“Oh,” she says.

“Christmas was never that big of deal for me,” he says. “I know it’s hard on Jack and Charlie, so… I figured if you weren’t doing anything…”

“Okay,” she nods. “Can you hang out while I shower?”

He waggles his eyebrows. She rolls her eyes.

oooo

Charlie is asleep when they arrive, so the three of them sit around the living room drinking beer and eating chocolate. It’s not the worst Christmas she’s ever had, anyway. 

“What’s the deal with you two,” Sam says, finally. “Are you like…?”

“Friends?” Jack finally supplies, a confused dent in his brow.

“Dating, I was going to say,” she says.

Jack and Daniel glance at one another. “No,” Daniel says.

“Just checking,” she says. 

“Are you dating anyone?” Daniel asks. Jack looks uncomfortable and swallows so much beer he starts to cough.

“No,” she says, when he starts to breathe again. “I just wanted to settle in to the job and find somewhere better to live.” 

“What about your rental house,” Daniel asks Jack, looking at him.

“What about it?” Jack asks. 

“Well, you hate the residents who live there,” Daniel says.

“Frat boys,” Jack says, shaking his head.

“Why not rent it to Sam?” Daniel presses.

“Daniel, he doesn’t have to-”

“I have tenants-”

“Remember when those boys threw the upstairs toilet out the window and broke the porch? Jack? Remember?” Daniel says. “Remember when they cut a keg sized hole in the wall between the kitchen and living room?”

“No,” Sam says.

“Yeah,” Jack says. “The house could use some work.”

“I wouldn’t move until the end of school anyway,” Sam says. “I wouldn’t have the time.” 

“Actually,” Jack says. “Their lease ends around then too. But I couldn’t let you move into that pit of despair. I mean, the work it needs is more than just simple fixes.”

“I could fix it up,” Sam says. “I mean, if you want.” 

“You haven’t even seen it,” he says.

“That’s true,” she says. “Well, if you want to take me by some day, I could assess the damage anyway. Take a look.”

“It’s actually not far from here,” Jack says. “And I bet it’s empty. Frat kids usually go home for Christmas.” 

“Now?” she says.

“Daniel can stay here with Charlie,” Jack says, standing up. “Right Daniel?”

“Uh, sure,” he says. 

Jack and Sam gather up their warm coats and walk out the door leaving Daniel alone.

“Huh.” Daniel frowned. “That worked better than I expected.”


	5. Candy Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I like to say, when asked why I pursue science, that it is to satisfy my curiosity, that I am by nature a searcher trying to understand. If you haven't found something strange during the day, it hasn't been much of a day."_  
>  \- John A Wheeler

The house is about seven blocks away from Jack’s house, one neighborhood over. This neighborhood is newer, the houses built in the 70s instead of the 50s, and the street it’s on is called Moonbeam, which she thinks is cute. She can see the glory of what the house once was - a yellow face with a wrap around porch and a garage big enough to hold a car or a bike or both if she’s careful. The yard is a mess, covered in snow and trash and patches of mud where there ought to be grass in the spring, though it’s doubtful that anything will grow. 

“Three bedrooms?” she asks.

“Four, if you don’t want an office,” he says, pulling his keys out of his pocket and sorting through them to find the right one. “You could get a roommate.”

“Well,” she says, dubiously. “Let’s look inside first.”

He unlocks the door and they both cringe.

“Oh my god,” she says, holding the back of her hand up to her nose. “What is that?”

“Frat boy,” he says. “Old beer. Dirty laundry. Rotting food.”

She kicks aside a pizza box and hears something slide around inside. The living room has a fireplace and over that hangs the flag of the fraternity. There’s an old, sagging sofa and several folding chairs all pointed around a large screen TV. The kitchen has dirty dishes in the sink and trash in the trash can which explains the smell of rotting food. There’s a formal dining room that holds a foosball table and another smaller tv with some sort of video game console hooked up to it. 

“That’s a bathroom,” Jack says, pointing to a closed door. “But I wouldn’t.” 

She goes upstairs. He waits downstairs for her while she pokes around - finds the laundry room and the other bathroom - sans toilet. At least four boys sharing one toilet in a half bath? She really _didn’t_ want to look at that bathroom downstairs. 

The master room is nice, though chilly, like the windows needed replacing. There’s a door that opens up to a little balcony. She doesn’t walk out onto it because the boards look damaged, but it shows her that the backyard space has potential. 

Downstairs, Jack waits for her. 

“What do you charge them?”

“$1100 a month,” Jack says. “I used to charge them $900 but… you know, toilet. Keg hole.” 

She can see how it could be nice. The wood floors need to be sanded and refinished. She’d stain them to a darker color, too. There is linoleum in the kitchen, but she’s laid down tile before, she could do that in a couple days with a rented tile saw. She’d probably hire someone to fix the hole in the wall - but the walls she could paint herself. 

“I think… after a thorough cleaning, it could be livable. It could be nice.”

“It was nice, once,” he says. 

“I guess if you reduce the rent until it’s a little more livable…” she speculates as they exit and he locks the door.

“You don’t have to decide now. Just think on it,” Jack says. 

In the truck, she asks, “Why do you own two houses anyway?”

“Technically, it belongs to Charlie,” he says. “Sara’s father left it to Sara and when… it went to Charlie. We all used to live there but we don’t anymore, for obvious reasons.”

“Oh,” she says. “Sorry, I…”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says. “It was a long time ago.”

“Okay,” she says.

“Charlie hasn’t been back since we moved out, though,” Jack says. 

“So no surprise visits from him,” she says. “Check.”

“He’s pretty handy with a tool box,” Jack says. “Maybe it’s time for him to go back?”

She doesn’t answer. It’s not her call. Jack looks thoughtful as they drive the rest of the way back to the house.

oooo

Sam is happy to be back in her classroom, though she can’t say the same for her students. Especially her AP students. She keeps a big countdown on the whiteboard of days left until AP tests start and they all watch it with increasing panic. 

It’s work for her, too. More grading, more students and parents requesting office hours, meetings, special visits where they explain how much work their child has to do what with sports and hobbies and jobs and little brothers and sisters. Sam is sympathetic, of course, but unrelenting. This is AP, not honors. It’s supposed to be hard. 

They get a break in the weather in early February, a string of warm days that tease spring. The roads are clear and dry and what snow is left starts to melt away. Even though Sam knows February is too early for spring, it’s hard not to be lured into the sense of hope it provides. 

She forgets about Valentine’s day - is blissfully unaware until the first bell rings and the girls who come into her class are a sea of pinks and reds, giggling and whispering to one another. It’s eight in the morning, but half the class is already sucking on lollipops or eating little foil wrapped chocolates at their desk. Which means by the time the first break rolls around, everyone will be on a sugar high and then crash in the afternoon.

"Put it away, everyone," she says. "Now."

In the staff lounge, there are paper hearts taped all over the walls and one of the round tables is full of heart shaped cookies with pink icing, bowls of pink and purple foil wrapped Hershey kisses, and a bunch of those chalky conversation hearts that say things like '2 Cute' and 'Txt Me.'

"Wow," she says. 

Vala has a fuzzy pink headband on and magenta heels.

"I love holidays," she says. 

"Is this all you?" Sam asks bypassing the candy and heading straight for the coffee pot. She pulls her mug down from the cupboard and finds there's a bubble gum filled sucker already in it. Vala grins.

"I may have had a hand in it," she says. "Come on, Samantha! Open up your heart to the idea of human connection!"

"I'm connected," she grumbles. 

Someone else comes in - one of the teachers Sam doesn't know very well, Carolyn. She'd been out on maternity leave and has only come back at the new semester.

"Oh, hell no," she says, and turns right around again and leaves.

"She's such a fuddy duddy," Vala says. "That's what happens when you're too athletic."

"Vala," Sam says, rubbing her forehead. "That's so wrong, I don't even know where to start."

"Did you know Hank Landry is her father? She gets away with all sorts of things," Vala says. "Nepotism." 

"Well, this has been fun and enlightening, but I'm leaving," Sam says, raising her coffee mug.

"Wait, I made a special cookie for you," Vala says, picking up a large cookie with a napkin. Sam takes it. It has writing on it in red icing.

"What does this mean?" Sam asks, "SC + JO? Who is Jo?"

"Oh my god," Vala says, shaking her head. "I can't wait to tell Daniel about this entire conversation."

"Wait..."

"Samantha and Jonathan, sitting in a tree..." Vala sings. "The students are all talking about it."

"The _students_?" Sam says.

"Yes," Vala says. "They think it's cute. They know about spending the holidays together."

"We didn't... it wasn't... this is Charlie's fault," Sam seethes. "We're just friends!"

"That's not what the cookie says," Vala says, shrugging.

oooo

It’s warm enough for there to be baseball practice outside. The grass still crunches beneath her feet as she walks toward the diamond after school, but the sun is shining and Sam unzips her jacket by the time she reaches the bleachers and the chain link fence. Cam is there, watching the baseball team run laps around the bases.

“Hey,” he says to her. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she says. 

“Looking for Jack?” he asks with a grin.

“No!” she says. “Okay, yes, but not…”

“It’s okay,” Cam says, keeping his eyes on the stopwatch he holds in his hand. “He’s just getting some equipment from the office. He’ll be right back.”

“You mind if I talk to Charlie for a minute?” Sam asks. Cam’s eyebrows raise but he shrugs.

“Sure.” He blows the whistle around his neck. “O’NEILL,” he hollers. “GET OVER HERE, NOW.” 

Sam winces, her ears ringing. “Thanks,” she says dryly and goes to sit on the bench. It’s cold, the metal leaching the warmth from her backside. Charlie runs up to Cam and Cam points at her. Charlie jogs over, sweating and red in the face from his run.

“Hey Miss C,” he says, huffing. “What’s up?”

“Charlie, I wanted to ask you something,” she says. “You don’t have to answer, but…”

“Dude,” Charlie says. “Is this about Christmas? Because I didn’t mean to… I mean, Mr. Jackson was there too, but no one is talking about that!” He does look embarrassed.

“You aren’t in trouble,” she says, “I just want to make sure that you aren’t saying anything that isn’t true.”

“All I did was tell Will and Jeff what I did for Christmas and stupid fucking-”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, freaking, Trevor overheard and then all of a sudden it was like you and my dad were the topic of teacher gossip, which Dad hates and he’s already reamed me out about it so don’t worry,” Charlie finishes.

“He has?” Sam asks. “He knows?”

“Dude,” Charlie says again. “Everybody knows. It’s like a thing.”

“I see,” she says.

“I told them it was all, like, innocent and that you just like to ski and like, ride motorcycles and do science and stuff, but of course teenagers like to gossip.” He shakes his head and shrugs like, what could he do? She looks past Charlie to where Jack is coming across the field with two big equipment bags.

“Go help your dad,” she says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

She turns and walks quickly toward the parking lot. She hears Jack behind her, calling “Carter?” but she doesn’t stop and doesn’t turn back. 

oooo

Sam invites Janet to go for a run with her on Saturday. She feels like she wants to go out and do something active, like she’s full of some sort of nervous energy that is ticking inside her - ticking down to what, she isn’t sure. Sam drives to Janet’s house in her winter running gear and knocks on the front door. 

Cassie answers in her pajamas, holding a bowl of cereal. Sam can hear the high-pitched sound of Saturday morning cartoons in the background. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Sam says. 

“Come in,” Cassie says, heading back to the living room. 

“Where’s mom?” Sam asks.

“Pooping,” Cassie says. 

“Whoa, over-share,” Sam says. Cassie shrugs. Sam sits next to her on the couch to wait and watches the TV for awhile before saying, “You could come running with us.”

“Ha ha.”

“Seriously,” Sam says. “It’d be good for you. What are you doing instead?”

Cassie looks at her with big, incredulous eyes. “It’s _Saturday_. I’m not doing anything.”

“I see,” Sam says.

“It’s like all teachers came out of a teacher factory and were never teenagers,” Cassie grumbles. 

“You caught us.” Sam grins.

“MOM!” Cassie yells. “MISS CARTER IS HERE, HURRY UP, SHE’S MAKING ME TALK BEFORE TEN AM!” 

There’s a trail that runs through a dense patch of trees at the edge of the neighborhood. The dirty snow crunches beneath their feet. Sam lets Janet talk, half listening. Janet doesn’t really need much of a response, she’s perfectly capable of carrying on both sides of the conversation by herself. 

“So when are you and Jack going out?”

“What?” Sam whips her head around to look at Janet and then stumbles, tripping over something on the path. She pitches forward and hits the frozen ground hard. She feels it in her elbow that tries to break the fall and her ankle that that twists as her body pitches forward but her foot stays still. She swears on the way down and Janet shouts in surprise.

“Sam! Are you okay?”

Sam rolls onto her back, holding her arm close to her torso. It takes her a few moments to catch her breath.

“Well,” she says. “That was not graceful.” 

“If you were trying to dodge the question, you may have overdone it,” Janet says with a big smile. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“I’m not sure,” Sam says honestly. “Everything kind of… let me try to get up.” 

She can stand, but her ankle hurts and her run is definitely over. “How far are we?”

“From my house?” Janet asks. “Well… Jack’s is closer.”

“You’re kidding,” she groans. 

“Stay here,” Janet says. “I’ll go and get the car.”

“Janet,” Sam says. “I can…”

“Just stay here,” Janet orders. “I won’t be long.” She takes off in the direction they’d come from at a run.

Sam sits with her back against a tree, cradling her elbow. By the time she hears footsteps, it hasn’t really been that long, but the ground has sapped her of her warmth and she’s achey and shivering. 

“Well, well, well.”

She looks up. It’s Jack. 

“You’re not Janet,” she says. 

“No,” he agrees. “But the way she burst into my house yelling and pointing… well, I thought there would be more blood than this.” 

“I fell,” she says. “Twisted my ankle.”

“My truck is on the street, just through those trees,” he says. “Can you make it that far?”

“Or what, you’ll carry me?” She laughs.

“Well,” he says, shrugging. “Yeah.”

She can feel the smile disappear from her face. “Oh. That’s, um, not necessary.”

He offers his elbow. “If you’re sure.”

She really hasn’t put much weight on her foot, so by the time they reach the street, she’s hanging onto him and her ankle is throbbing. He helps her into the cab of the truck and she lets her head rest back and her eyes close. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

“Hey,” he says. “Anytime.”

At Jack’s house, Janet helps her ease off her boot to look at the ankle. It’s swollen and discolored, though not fully bruised yet.

“Ouch,” Sam says. Jack hovers - close enough to see and hear but not close enough to be a part of the interaction. 

“Let’s just make sure it’s not broken,” Janet says. Her fingers are cold and it hurts as she probes them around.

“Where’s Charlie?” she asks through clenched teeth, desperate for a distraction. Jack steps toward them.

“Are you kidding? It’s not even noon. He’s still asleep,” Jack says. 

“Sam invited Cassie running with us,” Janet says with a laugh. Jack chuckles and shakes his head.

“What?” Sam asks.

“No offense,” Janet says. “But you are just clearly not the parent of a teenager.”

“None taken, I think,” she says.

“Not broken,” Janet says. “But you could use some ice and then I’d like to wrap it before you head home.”

“I could take her in,” Jack says. 

“It’s not that bad,” Sam says. “Really.”

“If you’re sure,” Jack says. “They’d probably give you crutches.”

“No way,” Sam says. 

“I have a cane,” he says. “If you decide you need it.”

“Really?” she asks.

“Bad knees,” he says. “Lots of surgeries.”

“Do you have your kit, Jack?” Janet asks. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Upstairs.”

Janet leaves Sam on the couch and goes into the kitchen to get some ice. Jack comes back down holding what looks like a tackle box. He sets it on the coffee table and opens it and sees that it’s filled with first-aid supplies. 

“I’m sorry about all this,” Sam says.

“No need for that,” Jack says. “I’m glad you weren’t more badly hurt.” 

Janet brings her a baggie of ice and a dish towel to wrap it up in and situates it on her foot. 

“I’ll take her to her car,” Jack says. Janet glances at the clock on the wall and tilts her head.

“You sure?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says. 

“Call me if you think it gets worse, okay?” Janet says. 

“Of course, Dr. Frasier,” Sam says teasingly.

“Make fun, but I was the school nurse for five years before I taught full time,” she says. “I know a thing or two about sprains.”

When Janet is gone, Jack sits next to her on the sofa and turns on the TV. 

“Jack-”

“If you apologize, I swear to god, Carter,” he says. 

“My foot is cold,” she says instead. 

“A few more minutes and then we can wrap it up,” he says. 

“I’m usually not so clumsy,” she says. He flips through a few channels and then settles on some sort of cooking show. 

“We all trip up now and then,” he says. “Can I get you something? Water? Coffee? Hard liquor?”

“I’d take coffee,” she says. He fixes her a mug and she holds onto it while he sits on the coffee table next to her foot. He lifts the ice slowly, slowly enough that she can tell him to stop if she wants to, but she’s perfectly comfortable with him helping her. He looks at the ankle and then back up at her. 

“Janet’s right. We should wrap it before you try to walk on it again.” 

“Okay,” she says. 

He reaches into the tackle box and pulls out a roll of beige bandage.

“Can you put your foot on my knee?” he asks. Of course she can, what a stupid question, but she can tell that he doesn’t just want to manhandle her parts. She obliges and he busies himself unwrapping the bandage. He puts the end up against the arch of her foot and holds it in place with his thumb. His hands seem extremely warm against the cold skin of her foot. He starts wrapping it efficiently. He lifts her foot a little but he doesn’t jostle it too much.

“So,” he says. “What’s this I hear about a cookie?”

She closes her eyes but when she opens them, she’s still there.

“Vala,” she says.

“Yeah,” he grins. “I got one, too.”

“I’m really-”

“Ah ah!” he stops her. 

“It’s just apparently, you know, there’s talk. It’s embarrassing!”

“Nah,” he says. “Don’t take it personally. The kids look at us like we’re some sort of weird aliens and then they watch our lives like a weird alien telenova.”

“Um.”

“Metaphors, whatever,” he says. “The point is, something else will come up and it’ll all blow over. Don’t feel weird. There used to be all this talk about Daniel and Vala when Vala started at Liberty, and now it’s all so much dust in the wind.” 

“Okay,” she says. “It’s not like… I mean.” She feels her face turning red. “I wasn’t embarrassed, Jack.”

“No?” he asks. “Because Charlie sure thought you were.”

“Your kid has a big mouth,” she says. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

He smirks but doesn’t stop looking at her foot which is now thick with bandage. He reaches over to the tackle box and pulls out a metal fastener to hold the bandage in place.

“You’re pretty good at this,” she says.

“You learn a lot of useful things in the military,” he says. “First aid being high upon that list.” 

“Thank you,” she says.

“Will you stay for lunch?” he asks. 

“Sure,” she says. He rests his warm palm on her toes and gives them an affectionate squeeze. 

“Good,” he says. “Because the beast has risen and he always wakes up hungry.”

Sam twists to look at the bottom of the stairs where Charlie is standing in his pajamas. He has some wild bed head - the heater had masked the sound of his socked feet descending the stairs. 

“You two don’t make it easy,” Charlie says, shaking his head. 

“What, us?” Jack says. “We just like to keep the gossip train going.”

Sam covers her face with her hands.

oooo

On Wednesday, while her students are taking a test, Sam is looking at her emails enjoying the the sound of panicked writing. She looks up to see at least three students sitting with their head in their hands. When she looks back at the screen, she notices something blinking down in the corner of the screen. The email has a chat function built in but no one ever uses it. When she clicks, she sees that it’s from Daniel.

_Lunch?_

She doesn’t know Daniel all that well and while she loves the library and all, she just doesn’t have much occasion to take her classes there. She feels like she knows him better since Christmas - maybe he’s just extending the olive branch?

 _Sure_ she types back. _Where?_

 _The library. Obviously._

She fights the urge to stick her tongue out at the monitor. 

_See you then._

She starts to try to figure out a way to simply turn off the chat function when another box pops up and she immediately grins. It’s Jack.

_You going to the library?_

_I guess so_. Apparently it’s a thing. That makes more sense than Daniel randomly and passive-aggressively inviting her to lunch. 

_Good. I’ll swing by and we can walk together?_

She has to force herself not to answer immediately. She waits a few seconds and then types.

_Yes._

She hears something - a giggle disguised as a cough and she realizes she’s still smiling. She looks up and sees a few students looking at her. 

“You done?” she asks. There’s still fifteen minutes left in the period. Everyone looks down at their papers, suddenly studious. 

She collects the tests at five minutes until the bell despite groans and protests that they should get the extra time. 

“Sometimes I tell my AP classes, even my honors classes, how much you guys complain and then I tell them how much time you get and the kind of questions you get and they laugh and I laugh and we laugh together,” Sam says. 

“But we’re not AP!” says one of the kids.

“No,” she says glancing at the tests in her hands. “That you are not.” 

The class clears out quickly, grateful to be away from her and off to lunch. Jack arrives almost immediately after the last kid disappears out of the room. He has on jeans and a baggy green sweater and still has a whistle around his neck. His hair is a little messy like he’d taken off his ballcap before coming over.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” she smiles. 

“How is the foot?”

“Better,” she says. “Still bruised, but better, thanks.”

“You ready?” he asks, thumbing at the door over his shoulder. 

“What’s the deal with this?” she asks, logging off of her computer. 

He shrugs. “Daniel gets irritated with eating in the staff room and the library has a lot of space?”

“You guys do this every day?” she asks, picking up the keys from her desk and heading toward him.

“No,” he says. “Mostly just Wednesdays when the weather is crummy.” 

The weather had turned again. She’d woken up Monday morning to find everything iced over which had made limping to work all the more difficult. 

“Ah,” she says. He stands in front of the door and so she stops. “What?”

“Carter,” he says. “Do you maybe want to… I don’t know… go do something? Sometime?”

“Well I don’t know Jack,” she says. “Last time we did that, Charlie got concussed. Do you think it’s safe?” 

He makes an odd expression and then smiles. “Never mind.”

She looks at him. “Were you being serious?” she asks. “Oh god, you were.”

“Nah,” he says. “Nope.” 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I thought you were…”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I do,” she says. “I mean… I would. If you were being serious.” 

“Well that’s good to know,” he says. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Janet walks by and stops when she sees them. “You guys coming to lunch?”

“Yep,” Jack says and walks out into the hall. Sam locks the door behind them, mortified and silent.

oooo

“Janet,” Sam says into Janet’s answering machine. “Please call me. I… please call me back. Thanks.” She’s about to hang up and then hurriedly brings the phone back to her ear. “It’s Sam.” She hangs up.

Jack had been weird at lunch on Wednesday and she hadn’t seen him since. It’s Friday evening now and she keeps almost going over to his house, almost calling, almost something, but she hasn’t yet. She thinks maybe Janet will have some advice but also she thinks there’s a pretty high probability Janet will just laugh at her. 

When Janet doesn’t call her back, Sam gets in her car and decides she’ll just drive.

Of course, she drives in the general direction of Jack’s house and then finds herself on his street and then, whoops, there’s his house. The truck isn’t in the drive, but there are lights on. Maybe Charlie has the truck?

She sits outside for about twenty minutes and then finally gets out and knocks on the door.

Charlie answers and when he sees her, he just shakes his head. “Dude, Miss C.”

“I know,” she says.

“Dude!”

“I know, Charlie,” she says. “I may have….” She trails off, helplessly.

“Fucked up?” Charlie asks.

“Yes,” she says. “I fucked up! Are you happy?”

He smiles. “Come in.”

She doesn’t move. 

“He’s not home,” Charlie reassures her. 

She steps in. “See what happened was-”

“Oh I know what happened,” Charlie says. He closes the door. 

“I didn’t realize he was serious,” she says.

“Yeah,” Charlie says. She follows him into the kitchen. He pulls two sodas out of the refrigerator and sets them on the table. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks,” she says. She takes the soda - not diet, but she doesn’t complain. They crack them open and he takes a loud slurp but she just looks at hers. 

“We can fix this,” Charlie says.

“I can’t believe I’m talking about this with you,” she says. 

“Well I can’t believe you’ve been stringing my dad along for months and when he finally gets the cojones to ask you on a friggin’ date you laugh in his face!” Charlie says. “You think this has been easy on me?”

“Whoa, months?” she says. “That is not true!” 

“No?” he says. “Does all the staff come on ski vacations with us? Does my dad orchestrate elaborate last minute barbecues for everyone? Do I come downstairs to find my dad tenderly wrapping the foot of Principal Hammond?” He shakes his head and looks exceedingly like his father. “No. No I don’t.”

“Your dad is a really nice guy, Charlie, but I don’t just date every single person who is nice to me. That’s not what grown-up dating is,” she says. “And I really want to tell him how sorry I am that I hurt his feelings. Do you think he’d let me do that?”

“My dad doesn’t date,” Charlie says. “I mean, he’s gone on a couple like… first dates but he’s never had a girlfriend or anything and he never talks about women around me. He’s always really careful.”

“Yeah?” she asks. 

“I know why,” Charlie says. “I know it’s about what happened when I was little.”

“Oh,” Sam says. “Honey.”

“But he, like, doesn’t shut up about you,” Charlie says. “He asked me, you know. What I thought about him asking you out on a date.”

“Oh,” she says. 

“He’s a pretty good guy,” Charlie says. “I thought you’d say yes.”

“I did!” she defends. “Kind of. Eventually.” 

“I thought adults knew what they were doing,” Charlie says. “I can’t believe you make _money_ to teach _us_ stuff!”

“Yeah,” she says, finally drinking her soda. It’s so sweet that her eyes water for a second. “Sometimes I can’t believe it either.” 

“Anyway, he went out with T and Mr. Jackson,” Charlie says. “You want to play some Mario Kart?”

“Yes,” she says. “Yes I do.”

oooo

Her phone rings Sunday morning and she answers it expecting her brother.

“Hello?”

“I hear you beat Charlie at Rainbow Road. No one ever beats Charlie at Rainbow Road.”

“Oh,” she says, shifting the phone to her other ear. “I have a nephew and a niece, you know. Lots of practice.”

“Charlie says you came by to apologize but that’s funny because you didn’t stay long enough to actually speak to me.”

“It was my understanding, Coach, that you were going to be out late,” she says.

“It’s Jack,” he says. 

“Jack,” she says. “Hey Jack?”

“What?”

“You want to go do something? Maybe sometime?” she asks.

“Ha, ha, so funny,” he says.

“We could go on a hike,” she says. “Or get dinner?”

“Do you like brunch?” he asks. 

“I do like brunch,” she says. 

“What are you doing now?” he asks. 

“I’m free,” she says, smiling.

“Oh, I was just kidding,” he says. “I guess you totally misread the situation.”

“Ouch, but deserved,” she says. “I’m sorry Jack.”

“I caught you a little off guard, maybe,” he says.

“Maybe,” she agrees. 

“There’s a place down on Barnes at Powers street that has breakfast tacos,” he says. “30 minutes?”

“Okay,” she says. “Half an hour.”

She hangs up and a few minutes later her phone rings again. 

“Hello?” she says.

“It’s Janet,” she says. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she says. “Never mind. False alarm.”


	6. Spring Break!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"All science is either physics or stamp collecting."_  
>  — Sir Ernest Rutherford

Sam stands outside of the movie theater with her hands in her pockets. She pulls her left hand out to glance at her wristwatch and then quickly returns her hand to the warmth of her coat. It’s warm enough now that the days are lovely, but it’s still cold once the sun sets. Jack is five minutes late and the movie starts in ten. This is their third official date. She’s had to start categorizing what counts as official because she does see him often - at work, or at Janet’s house or when she goes over to his house, though usually Charlie is there and more often than not, Daniel too, or T. No, an official date is when they are alone and it doesn’t happen very often. 

It’s Friday and spring break starts Monday so she has a week free, a whole week in front of her with no classroom, no bell, no hands up in the air. She needs the break. Jack does too, he’s been looking a little ragged around the edges.

He’s eight minutes late now and it’s not like him. 

They’ve decided on the small art house theater instead of the large multiplex. When she’d become a teacher, she didn’t realize the lengths she’d end up going to avoid seeing students out in the wild. She especially doesn’t want any student witnessing a date between her and Jack. And while they’d probably both enjoy some sort of loud action movie much better, they’ve settled for an independent title. 

The movie now starts in five minutes and she’s digging through her purse for her cellular phone when he calls her name, jogging on the sidewalk toward her.

“Sorry,” he says. 

“It’s okay.” She holds up two tickets and he makes a face but doesn’t argue. 

“Popcorn or…?” he asks.

“No thanks,” she says. He holds the door open for her and they walk into the warm lobby. It smells like chemical butter. There’s only a handful of screens in this theater and they’re in the main one. Two double doors are open and they hurry into the theater, down the sloped walkway and then turn to find seats. She’d been worried, but the theater is only about a third full.

“After you,” he says. She goes farther back than she’d usually would to avoid a row of middle aged ladies who are chatting loudly. She shrugs off her coat and lays it on the seat next to her and then sits down. Jack sits on her other side. “So,” he says.

She’s about to ask him what had held him up, but the screen flickers to life and the lights dim and she misses her chance. “Just in time,” she says. 

Sam likes movies well enough, but as far as dates go, they aren’t her favorite. This was Jack’s idea. It’s hard for her to feel justified in sitting around for an hour and a half or more doing nothing. They could be eating or hiking or just talking or… other things, but if Jack likes movies, she could like movies every once in a while.

About twenty minutes in, Jack yawns, stretches, and drapes his arm across her shoulder. She can’t help but smirk at the old-fashioned move but she allows it, shifting her body to adjust for his arm behind her neck. She leans into him, pushing up the armrest between them. She watches the movie for a few more seconds before she realizes she can feel him still watching her. She tilts her head up to look at him and he’s looking down at her.

“Come here,” he says.

They’ve kissed before. Not really seriously - he’s given her a kiss outside of her door after their brunch date and she’s gotten a couple cheek kisses or kisses that landed on the corner of her mouth. They haven’t really had much time to do more and she’s not in any sort of hurry. Jack seems like the kind of guy who isn’t going to go anywhere unless she tells him to take a hike and he’s not impatient or pushy. It’s been kind of nice getting to know him as a friend and slowly trying to figure out if they’re compatible, if they can survive the transition to something more. 

But this is a real kiss. A really good one too. The kind that makes all the blood in her body start rushing. The kind where she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. The kind that when her mouth opens and she feels her tongue touch his, she’s sixteen again and she feels like she could just die. His hand slides up to her face, cradling her jaw and he keeps on kissing her.

There’s a loud noise, something in the film, and it startles them apart. 

He gives her a little smirk and turns back to the screen.

She holds on to the armrests hard.

After the movie, the longest movie of her life, maybe, he offers to take her out for some food but she’d eaten beforehand and isn’t very hungry.

“We could pick up dessert and take it back to my place?” she offers. Her cheeks color right away as she says it, but she doesn’t apologize or take it back.

“I could eat pie,” he says thoughtfully. “I’ll pick one up. Meet you there.”

“Sure,” she says.

At home, she straightens up quickly, remakes the bed, brushes her teeth and puts on a little more mascara. She thinks about changing her clothes but doesn’t. That seems a little too much.

Her phone rings.

“Hello?” she says.

“Hey.” It’s Jack. “Would you mind coming over to my place instead?”

“Oh,” she says. “No, I guess not. Why?”

“I called to check in with Charlie and made the mistake of mentioning the pie. Now he wants some, too.”

“The great weakness of the O’Neill men. Sure,” she says.

It’s hard not to be a little disappointed, but she knows that when you date someone with a child, you’re dating a family. That Charlie will always come first to matter the situation and that he _should_. She just can’t stop thinking about that kiss, is all. 

She rides her Indian over - now that the weather is a little nicer, she’s been parking it in the complex instead of leaving it in storage. She doesn’t love leaving it out in the open, but she parks it in her covered spot and leaves her car in one of the many uncovered spots for guests and so far it’s been okay. She had changed for the ride - jeans and a long sleeved black shirt that fits well under her leather jacket, and gloves so her fingers don’t freeze. Charlie is on the deck when she pulls up. She parks close to the house and kills the motor. 

“Still cool,” he says when she pulls off her helmet. “Still so cool.”

“What kind of pie did he get?” she asks, tucking her helmet under her arm.

“I think you mean what kinds,” he says. She rolls her eyes. 

“Should’ve known,” she says.

Jack is on the deck, too, though he is farther back and stoking the fire in the little stove. When she walks onto the deck, he looks up and smiles.

“I called Daniel and T, too.” He shrugs. “Since I had so much pie.” 

“Can Cassie come over?” Charlie asks. 

“You can call and ask,” Jack says. “But you’d better invite her mom too. You know how she gets.”

“Butt hurt,” Charlie says gravely.

“Yeah,” Jack agrees. Charlie goes in through the slider and Sam puts her helmet down onto one of the chairs. “Carter…”

“It’s okay,” she says. 

“You sure?” he asks.

“Positive,” she promises. And it is. Sam has been single, seriously single, since she finished grad school. She’s never lost a spouse, she’s never raised a child on her own. She has no idea what that must feel like. Jack can take all the time in the world. If he needs ten years to figure it out, she’ll wait it out. 

“DAD! THEY’RE GONNA COME TOO,” Charlie hollers from inside the house. 

“Loud and clear, buddy,” Jack calls back. 

“Can I help?” she asks. 

“You better with fire ovens or kitchen ovens?” he asks.

“Fire,” she says. “Definitely fire.”

He shakes his head. “You’re pretty hot, you know that, Carter?” 

She grins. “I know.”

He leaves her to keep stoking the fire and goes inside. By the time Daniel and T arrive, the deck is cozy and warm and she’s sitting in a chair with her feet up on the railing. 

T dips his head at her in greeting. Daniel holds a bottle of wine in one hand and a case of beer in the other. She’s beginning to understand what Jack sees in him. 

“Hi Mr. Murray,” Charlie says, coming out onto the deck.

“Hello,” he says. “And hello to you, Samantha.” T goes into the house as well.

Charlie flops down into the seat next to her and she reaches out and touches his arm lightly.

“Any big plans for spring break?” she asks him. He shrugs. 

“Dad and I talked about going to the batting cages,” he says. “Maybe go to the library.”

“I was thinking that, if your dad says it’s okay, we could go for another ride on my bike,” she offers.

“Really?” he asks, excitedly. 

“Yeah, go up into the mountains a little. Don’t you think that would be fun?”

“Yes!” he says. 

“I bet we can get your dad’s bike going,” she says. “And make a day of it.”

“That piece of junk?” he scoffs.

“It needs some work but I can make it run,” she says. “I’ll talk to him.” 

“That would be awesome, Miss C,” he says.

“Charlie, you can call me Sam when we’re not at school if you want to,” she says.

“Maybe,” he says. “I don’t know. I’ll try.” He makes a face.

When Janet and Cassie arrive, Sam goes into the kitchen to help cut and plate the pie. There’s ice cream in the freezer and Charlie helps her scoop it onto the warm wedges and puts forks onto each plate. Charlie picks up two plates to bring them outside but Sam can balance four without dropping them. Charlie raises an eyebrow and, again, his face - for just a moment - transforms into his father’s. 

“I used to wait tables in college,” she says. 

“Apparently,” he says. “I’ll get the door.” 

Jack has saved the seat next to his and when everyone has their sweet treat, she sits next to him. The chairs are close so everyone can benefit from the little stove, and their elbows brush. She wants to hold his hand, to feel the sensitive skin of her palm slide against his. She wants to slide onto his lap and bury her nose into the skin of his neck, to breathe deeply and let her tongue dart out to have just a little taste. She wants to-

“Carter? You okay?” he asks.

She’s been staring at him. 

“Yeah, sorry,” she says, shaking her head to hide her embarrassment. “Just tired I guess. It’s been a long day.” 

“Tired?” Cassie demands. “This is one of the best days of the whole year. It’s spring break!”

“SPRING BREAK! WHOOO!” Charlie yells, raising both fists high into the night air.

“Hey,” Jack snaps. “It’s late. We have neighbors, ya know.” 

“Sorry,” he says and then whispers. “Spring break! Whooo!”

Daniel snorts back his laughter. 

Janet stands to take the empty plates and forks back into the house and Sam rises to help her. In the kitchen, Janet gives her a knowing look and says, “Tired?”

“Shut the hell up,” Sam says.

oooo

Sam sleeps in a little and then fixes herself breakfast - instant oatmeal, a pot of coffee, and a banana. She calls her brother but he's not home, so she talks to her sister-in-law and the kids for a good hour. She promises to come out at some point in the summer since she’d missed Christmas.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay?” Elizabeth asks when her niece finally hands the phone back to her mother.

“I am sure,” she says. “I really like it here. You guys should think about coming here, too. It’s beautiful.”

“Okay,” Elizabeth says. “I’ll tell Mark you called.”

“Thanks,” Sam says. 

Sam showers - her hair is getting long, curling around her ears, the hair at her forehead long enough to reach her eyebrows. Grow it out or cut it - she likes it short and makes a mental note to make an appointment. 

She has stuff to do with her Saturday - grocery shopping, putting gas in her bike and car, maybe an evening yoga class if she feels up to it. She has tests to grade, things that need to be returned the first day back, but she has all week and doesn’t worry about those now. 

She pulls on tights and a dress, black boots with a little heel and spends a few minutes on her make-up. 

She does her grocery shopping at Whole Foods, fills the back of her car with groceries and then heads home again. She’s unpacking the bags when there’s a knock on her door. She sticks the ice cream in the freezer and opens the door. 

It’s a delivery person and the long white box screams flowers.

“Samantha Carter?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” she says, taking the box. She signs his electronic device with stylus pen and hands it back. “Thanks.”

Inside the box are a bouquet of peach roses, beautiful, fragrant flowers and she counts 18 of them. They’re bound up tightly in the box, but they come with a clear glass vase. It’s a bit of a struggle to get the flowers out of their packaging and then when she does, she has to take them out to trim the stems before putting water in the vase and arranging the flowers. They are really spectacular, obviously expensive and the buds are still fairly closed which means they will open and stay beautiful for days. 

The little card just says _From Jack_. 

She should call him, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to seem too eager. She’ll call him tomorrow, let him wait. 

She likes him, she really does, but she just doesn’t want to seem desperate. 

oooo

Sunday morning, she takes a picture of the flowers sitting prettily on her little dining table and texts it to Jack with one word: _Thanks_.

Her phone rings a couple minutes later.

“You’re welcome,” he says. She’s crawled back into bed, sore from yesterday’s yoga and she has her coffee mug balanced on her stomach while she talks to him.

“They’re really nice,” she says.

“They were supposed to arrive yesterday,” he says.

“They did,” she admits. 

“Oh,” he says. “Well.”

“How are you?” she asks.

“Are you still in bed?” he asks. “You sound all… um. Sultry, I guess.” He clears his throat. 

She smiles. “Yeah,” she says. “I guess I’m having a lazy Sunday.” 

“You want to be lazy over here?” he asks.

“Maybe,” she says. “I was thinking we could work on your Harley if you’re up for it.”

“Funny,” Jack says. “Charlie mentioned that to me. Charlie who has never said one word about that bike except to make fun of it.”

“Hilarious,” she agrees. “What are the odds?”

“What, indeed,” he says.

“I’ll go get my tools out of storage,” she says.

“I have tools,” he says, sounding slightly offended.

“I like mine,” she says without apology. “I’ll be there in a while, okay Coach?”

“Okay, Carter,” he says. 

The sun is streaming in through her bedroom window. She showers, puts on jeans and a tank top. She’s used to layering up - it’s a California thing. She puts on a long sleeved shirt, but one that’s so thin it’s partially transparent, but she likes it because it’s so soft and fits well under her leather coat. She spends a little extra time on her make-up and it’s a little heavy handed on the eyes, but she usually doesn’t bother with it. Today, she wants to look good - she wants to look fierce. She pins back her hair so it doesn’t end up looking weird from wearing a helmet. 

At the storage unit, she has to be deliberate about what tools she brings. She can’t just fit everything on her bike. She tries to weed out the things she thinks he’ll probably have and brings just a few of her favorites in her saddlebag. 

She can see the smoke curling up from his chimney when she pulls onto his street and then into his drive. The garage door is open already and the bike, still rusty and neglected. The garage is empty but the door from the garage to the house is cracked open and he comes out as she pulls off her helmet. He’d been listening for her. 

“Hi,” he says. He has a coffee mug in his hand even though it’s practically lunch time, now. She hopes he plans on feeding her at some point. 

“Hi,” she says, tucking her helmet under her arm. She thinks, later on, they’ll get to a place where casual intimacy is normal. Where he’ll step right up to her and kiss her or hug her or, hell, touch her arm or something, but instead there’s a good three feet between them and that’s where they always stop. Like there is some sort of force field between them. 

“How do you feel about waffles?” he asks.

“I feel good,” she says. “How do you feel about waffles?”

He smiles. “You’re looking at a pro-waffle guy.” 

She follows him in and the house already smells like coffee and a little smoky from the fire in the living room, like he’d only just started it. Had it started it because she’d said she was coming over?

She leaves her helmet on the bench by the door and her coat, too. It’s warm enough inside that she doesn’t need it. 

“I hope I didn’t hijack your Sunday,” he says.

“I wouldn’t let you take anything I wasn’t willing to give,” she says. He glances over his shoulder at her, but says nothing.

Charlie is a lump on the couch, the television on. He’s awake enough to have relocated to a shared living space, but still sort of comatose looking. He has an old quilt wrapped around him; all she can see is his head. She pats it as she walks by.

“So, do you need help?” she asks. He’s already got the counters covered with ingredients, bowls, breakfast trimmings. 

“No,” he says. It takes a moment, but she realizes that he expects her just to sit there and watch him cook. Keep him company, he calls it.

“If it’s all the same to you,” she says. “I’m going to go look at the Harley.”

It’s the reason she came and while she’s confident in her ability to get it back on the road, it will take time and she needs to figure out just how much time. 

“Sure,” he says. “Go hog wild.”

“Ha ha,” she says sarcastically.

oooo

“How old are you?”

Charlie is sitting on an old stool in the garage, watching her work on the Harley. 

“32,” she says. It’s perhaps not a socially acceptable question, but she’s never been one to shy away from scientific fact. “How old are you?”

“16 next month,” he says.

“Ah,” she says.

“My dad is 46,” he says. 

“I know,” she says. “Does that bother you?”

“I don’t know,” Charlie says. “I guess not.”

“It’s okay if it does,” she says. 

“Well, it’s just… like, how come it’s okay for someone to date an old guy like my dad, but if you date someone way younger, it’s frowned upon?” he asks.

“You think it’s okay for me to date someone older but not for someone older to date me?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“No,” he says. “I mean like if someone is under 18 it’s like weird but 10 years later, that same age difference doesn’t matter at all.”

“Well,” she says. “It’s not the age difference exactly. When someone is your age, they aren’t finished growing. Your brain isn’t finished developing. Cut to ten years later, both parties have fully matured so it is different.”

“I didn’t think of it like that,” he says.

“That’s because of your half cooked brain,” she says. He sticks his tongue out at her.

“My mom was 34,” Charlie says. “Only a little bit older than you.”

“Just a bit,” she says. She’s careful to keep her conversational tone. She doesn’t want to overreact to his sharing and scare him. “Do you remember her?”

“Yeah,” he says. He kicks at the concrete floor with his sneaker. “Sort of.”

She’s about to ask another question but he stands up. 

“Can we start it?” he asks.

“No,” she says. “Not yet. I’m going to have to get a few replacement parts first.”

“Lame,” he says. “I’m going to go play my Playstation.”

“Okay,” she says. When Charlie goes in, Jack comes out. “Eavesdrop much?”

“I was just giving you some space,” Jack says. “While listening creepily.”

She stands up, wipes her hands on an old cloth. She’s covered with grease and rust.

“I’ll go wash my hands,” she says. But when she makes for the house, he doesn’t move. In fact, he steps forward and narrows the space between them.

“You have something-” he says, reaching up to touch her cheek. “Here.” He presses his thumb to her cheekbone and wipes whatever it is away. Then he repeats the motion again, and a third time. She can’t help but tilt her head into his hand a little. 

He dips his head and kisses her.

oooo

Sam is a little worried about taking Jack’s motorcycle too far out. She trusts her own work, but it’s an unfamiliar bike and she doesn’t want to break down twenty miles from home. Instead, they just drive around the edge of town, the stretch between Colorado Springs and heading to Denver where the neighborhoods thin out and the open road is flat and wide. 

They let Charlie pick who he wants to ride with and he picks Sam. Jack looks a little wistful, a little jealous. 

He rides the bike well, considering how long it’s been since his has been in working order. She keeps an eye on him the first mile or so but then she doesn’t worry about him handling himself. It’s a Friday and this late into the morning, the traffic is scarce. Charlie holds on to her instead of the handles this time, maybe because they’re going so fast. He leans into her. She’s taken the helmet with the face shield this time because she does not like the feeling of bugs hitting her in the face and neither Jack nor Charlie seem to mind the skullcap helmets. Though, if they continue to take Charlie for rides, she’s going to insist on getting him something a little safer. 

When they slow down to take an exit onto a side road, she feels Charlie’s chin touch her shoulder and it makes something warm burst wide open in her chest. 

She has spent a lot of time with a lot of teenagers but Charlie is the very first one that she thinks that she could love.

Jack pulls ahead and she lets him. She follows him as they make their way back toward civilization and finally to a small restaurant. They park the bikes in spaces along the side of the building where there are big windows, where no matter where they sit inside, they can see them. 

“Lunch?” Jack asks.

oooo

After the ride, Cassie picks Charlie up in her mom’s car. It’s the last weekday of Spring break and there’s some gathering that they are going to. They are both very careful how they say it - a gathering, a get together. They’re just hanging out. 

“They’re going to a party right?” Sam says as they watch Cassie drive away.

“Oh totally,” Jack says. “They think we’re stupid.”

“They’re good kids,” Sam says. 

“Charlie has his phone and Janet makes Cassie check in every hour, so…” He shrugs. “Guess we’re on our own.” 

Immediately, her mouth runs dry. 

“Do you want to get some dinner?” he asks. “We could go someplace nice.”

“Oh,” she says. “Well. I’m not really dressed for nice.”

“We could go someplace grimy?” he offers. She smiles.

“Okay.” She waits a moment and then says. “How do you feel about riding on the back of the Indian?”

His face goes a little slack. “Good,” he says and it comes out kind of rough and broken, so he clears his throat and says more strongly, “Good.” She thinks maybe he’s feeling the strain a little bit too. 

Part of her wants to tell him to forget dinner, to shove him back into the house and just have her way with him, but she knows better than to push him and truth be told, it’s been a long time for her, too. Since well before her father died. What if she’s no good at that sort of intimacy anymore? What if when they finally make it to the bedroom, he finds that she’s not what he wants at all?

They go to one of those chain restaurants that promises to be just part of the neighborhood, though she recognizes no one in the establishment and neither does he. They sit in the bar area, in a high booth. There’s a full bar but he orders a Guinness and she orders a water and a glass of white wine. She likes red better, maybe, but doesn’t want a mouth full of stained teeth. 

He keeps glancing up behind her and she realizes he’s watching the tv up in the corner that’s on ESPN.

They order chips and salsa and munch on them until their food comes. She gets one of those huge salads that’s probably more calories than the burger that Jack gets. She finds that she really was hungry and after she eats, she feels more sure of herself. Less nervous and shaky. 

Jack pays - Sam allows him. She thanks him for the meal and they ride home, Jack pressed against her back and his arms wrapped low around her hips. When she pulls into the driveway, she feels him give her a squeeze before he climbs off the bike. 

She wants to make out with him on the couch like a teenager. She wants to follow him up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom, not that she’s ever seen it. She wants to see it. She wants to hear the door click softly shut behind them. She wants to cross her arms at her hem and pull her shirt up and over her head while he watches her. She wants him to toe off his sneakers and then crouch down to unzip her boots. 

“Do you want to come in?” he asks.

“Okay,” she says. 

oooo

They don’t exactly hear Charlie come home.

“What the fuck?!”

Sam has to crawl off of Jack’s lap and pull her t-shirt back down in one swift motion, though it leaves Jack a little exposed because he immediately pulls one of the throw pillows over his lap. 

“Charlie,” Jack says, but his voice is rough and low. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he says. 

“We thought you’d be gone longer,” Sam says, mortification making her own voice sound weird and wrong to her own ears. 

“Obviously.” This is from Cassie who is also here, smiling like she wishes she had a bowl of popcorn with which to enjoy the show. 

“Is everything okay?” Jack asks. “Did you go to the party?”

“Too many drunk people,” Charlie says and then, looking disgusting with the world, stomps his way upstairs and slams his bedroom door.

“Way to go, Coach,” Cassie says, giving them a thumbs up.

“Go home, Cassandra,” Jack barks and she jumps a little and then leaves without another word.

They sit for a moment while Jack stares angrily at the coffee table and Sam uncomfortably rubs her hands on her jeans.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “We shouldn’t have, maybe…”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I’m not sorry.”

She gives him a soft smile. “Good.”

“But you should probably go home,” he says. “I’ll see you at work.”

She knows it’s for the best, that he needs to talk to his son, that a weekend apart is exactly what they need, but it stings just a little all the same. 

At the door, he kisses her cheek only and watches her start up the Indian and drive away.


	7. Sex Ed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Physics is like sex: sure, it may give some practical results, but that's not why we do it.”_  
>  ― Richard P. Feynman

School is insufferable the first day back from Spring Break. Kids are mopey and uninterested, Sam’s mopey and uninterested too. 

“Look, we’d all rather be outside,” Sam says, finally, mid-way through her second period. “But we’re all stuck here, so just shut up and endure it!” She tosses the textbook down onto her desk - it’s her version, so it’s even thicker - and the bang makes everyone shut up. 

“Chill out, Miss C,” says one of the baseball players, Chad, and the kid grinds her gears all the time. She feels herself hit her limit. She pulls open her desk drawer, pulls out an office pass, scribbles something onto and walks calmly over to him.

She hands him the pass. 

“Get out of my class,” she says, softly. 

“But… I didn’t mean… I just…” he says. But she doesn’t waver and she keeps her hand out until he takes the pass. 

“Man, this is fucked up,” he says. He grabs his bag, his binder, his textbook and carries the whole mess into the hall. He manages to kick the door closed behind him. 

She turns back to the front of the room. 

“Now,” she says. “Let’s start again.”

oooo

“You okay?” Janet asks during the passing period. She’s come to Sam’s classroom.

“Yeah, why?” she asks.

“Word on the street is that you are breathing fire today,” Janet says.

“Word on the street?” Sam says skeptically. 

“The downlow! The 4-1-1! I’m a hip mom down with all the cool jive talk!” Janet says, doing a little hip shake with her arms in the air.

“God, stop, stop,” Sam says, but she can’t help but laugh and she feels better. 

“But seriously,” Janet says.

“I’m fine,” she says. “I just… got tired of back talk.” She shrugs. “Sometimes you have to reaffirm your boundaries.” 

“Okay,” Janet says. “I’ll see you for lunch?”

“Sure,” Sam says. Kids are starting to come in for the next class. Janet wades through them and heads back toward her own classroom. Sam does not regret sending Chad away, though it is not usually her practice to kick kids out of class. She likes to handle her own discipline problems, but then again, there are always little shits like Chad who think just because he comes to class wearing a sports uniform, he’s somehow better than everyone else. 

She’d just as well eat her lunch alone in her classroom, but Janet drags her to the large staff room and so they sit in hard plastic chairs surrounded by other tables and other people. Sam picks at her salad.

“What is wrong with you today?” Janet asks, exasperated. It’s the first time she seems to care that their conversation is one-sided. Daniel and T are eating together at another table - she hasn’t seen Jack all day. Before Sam can answer, Vala sits at their table and then Cam fills in the last seat. Vala has a bento box filled with sushi and Cam has cold pizza on a paper towel. 

“Hi,” Sam says. 

“So, are all your students being fucking little brats today?” Vala asks, picking up her chopsticks.

“Yes!” Sam says. “Thank you!” 

“First day after vacation,” Cam says and then takes a huge bite of pizza. He says something through the food that sounds like, “Makes ‘em crazy.” 

“They’re entitled spoiled little pieces of-” 

“Vala!” Janet says. “One of them is my daughter!”

“She’s not in my class,” Vala says. “So it’s fine.”

“It’s the baseball players,” Sam says, looking at Cam. “All smug in their uniforms.”

“Game day,” Cam says, shrugging. “It’s tradition that they gear up all day when we have a home game.”

“Says who?” Sam asks.

“Coach O’Neill,” Cam says. 

Sam goes back to her salad and says nothing. When lunch is drawing to a close, Janet pulls her aside and says, “Everything okay with you and Jack?”

“What?” Sam asks. “Sure. Of course. We’re great. I think, I mean, why did he say something to you?”

“No,” Janet says. “You just seem…” She shrugs. “Different.”

“Charlie caught us,” Sam says.

“Oh my god, where were you doing it?” Janet demands, her voice a harsh whisper.

“The living room,” she says. “He and _your_ daughter were supposed to be out late!”

“So you thought that gave you permission to have sex in the living room?” Janet says. “Did Cassie see?”

“We weren’t having sex!” Sam hisses, dragging her into the empty biology classroom. “We were just kissing. _Enthusiastically_.” 

“Oh,” Janet says. 

“Cassie made fun of us and left-”

“Of _course_ she did.”

“But I think we kind of upset Charlie. I mean, he knows why I’m hanging around all the time but I don’t think he was prepared to really be confronted with his dad moving on.”

“Sam, Sam,” Janet says, waving her hands in front of Sam’s face. “You just grossed him out, that’s all.”

“I want to be sensitive to his feelings!”

“He’s a teenage boy!” Janet says. “Don’t over think it. Anyway, what did Jack say?”

“Nothing,” Sam says. “I mean, I haven’t talked to him since it happened.”

Janet gives her a stern look, shakes her head, and walks away. 

Charlie is in her class after lunch, in his baseball uniform like all the others. He keeps his hat low over his eyes and slumps forward in his chair. She decides, being the adult of the situation, that she has to act like the adult. She taps him on the top of his head with her knuckles and says, “Don’t sleep through my class.”

“I’m not,” he protests but he sits up a little, just in case. Cassie smiles sweetly at her and Sam narrows her eyes in warning. 

When the bell rings, Sam says, “Charlie?”

“Yeah?” he says.

“Good luck today,” she offers. 

“Thanks,” he says. He turns to go and then at the door stops and turns back. “Are you coming to the game?”

She really hadn’t thought to but he looks hopeful. How could she turn him down?

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she promises. 

Football is popular at Liberty, so it’s a little surprising to find that the baseball game is sparsely attended. There are people but they seem mostly to be parents and the significant others of the players. Sam had asked Janet if she was going to go and Janet had laughed and said, “Good God, no.” 

Cassie attends, though, and Sam sits next to her even though she looks less than thrilled. 

“I’m sorry about what you saw,” Sam says. 

“You getting freaky with Coach O’Neill?” Cassie says. “Only a matter of time.” 

Sam winces. This is not a comfortable conversation for her, but she soldiers on. 

“We should have been more cautious anyhow,” Sam says. “I don’t want to make it worse for Charlie.”

“Make what worse?” Cassie asks. “He still killed his mom whether or not his dad kisses you.” Cassie rolls her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. Charlie knows what he did and he’s had like 8 years to think about it. You think he wants his dad to be alone forever?”

“I’m not sure what he wants,” Sam says.

Their conversation is interrupted by something happening on the baseball diamond. Sam starts to clap but Cassie shakes her head. 

“Wrong team,” Cassie says. “Honestly, Miss C.”

oooo

Sam comes home to find Jack sitting in his truck in her parking lot. She doesn’t notice him at first, but suddenly door closes and a man is walking toward her. Her heart speeds up a little, her arms are full of grocery bags, but then it’s just Jack. He takes one of the bags from her arms and another from the trunk. They carry them up the stairs to her apartment. 

“Is Charlie okay?” she asks finally, when he doesn’t seem like he’s going to start the conversation. It’s shitty of him, she thinks, to come all this way only to make her do all the heavy lifting. 

“He’s fine,” Jack says. There’s not enough room in the kitchen for both of them, so he just watches her unload the bags. “He was just… he’s fine.”

She puts half a gallon of milk into the fridge - a tub of margarine, three oranges. “Good,” she says.

“He’s doing homework with Cass and Janet tonight,” Jack says. Sam slips a box of cereal into the cupboard. Her cupboards are so small that it only just fits. 

“I’m sorry you guys didn’t win today,” Sam offers. 

“Sierra High is always better than us,” Jack says. “They got more money, more… talent, I guess.” 

“I’ll understand,” Sam blurts. She’s holding a box of breakfast bars so tightly that the cardboard dents beneath her grip.

“What?” he asks.

“If you want to… slow down or, or… stop,” she says. “If it’s too much.” 

“That isn’t why I came here,” he says. “I came to tell you that I had to evict the frat boys.”

“What happened?” she asks.

“I guess they were selling drugs,” Jack says. “There was a small kitchen fire and the firefighters reported finding drugs and then it all kind of… anyway, they’re out. I’ve been dealing with it all week. I had to wait for the parents to come get the last of their dumb kid's stuff out.”

“Jesus,” Sam says.

“I got someone coming out next week to do a full inspection of the damage. I’m gonna have to gut the kitchen and start over again and replace the toilet - probably replace all of them if I’m being realistic. I thought maybe we could talk about whether or not you really want to take that kind of project on again. With me.” 

“You came to talk about the house,” she says, relief flooding her. She feels her cheeks get hot. She puts the breakfast bars away.

“And make out a little, after, maybe,” he says. 

She smiles. “I’ll make you dinner first.”

She’d bought beef patties and buns so she decides that’s easy enough to throw together. She cooks the patties on the stove because she doesn’t have a grill - doesn’t even have the space for one. 

She doesn’t have anything to offer him besides milk, soda, or water, so he takes an ice water.

“I can buy beer if you’re going to be hanging around here,” she offers. 

“I can survive long stretches without alcohol,” he says. “Contrary to popular belief.”

“I think I have like half a bottle of wine in here,” she says sticking her head in the fridge.

“You need a little liquid courage, Carter?” he asks. She pulls her head out quickly and looks at him, her eyes wide.

“What? No! Why?” she asks. He smirks. It’s infuriating.

“I’m just here for dinner,” he promises. “No expectations.”

It’s a funny thing, sex. She wants it and is terrified of it in equal measure. What if it’s good but what if it isn’t? What if he sees her soft places, what if he isn’t what she expects, either?

She decides to say nothing. She plates up their food and takes it over to her small table. 

It’s true, grilled burgers are better but these are passable. She forces herself not to scarf her dinner down in order to get past this part of the evening. They make small talk about the house, about school, about Charlie. She talks about her niece and nephew.

“You ever want kids, Carter?” he asks. 

“Maybe,” she says. “For a long time, I thought I never wanted them, but there’s something about turning thirty that just kicks your body into high gear.”

“Really?” he asks.

“Intellectually I know that I’m in no condition to have a baby, but sometimes when I see them in the store or something, I have to talk myself out of it.” She shakes her head. “And then when a little time has passed it’s like, hang on a second! Like it wasn’t even me.” 

“You like kids, though,” he says.

“Of course,” she agrees. “I’d be in a bad line of work, otherwise.”

He pushes what’s left of his dinner around his plate. 

“Why?” she asks.

“Just curious,” he says.

“You only ever wanted Charlie?” she asks. He was seven, she remembers, when the accident happened and seven is pretty old to not have a brother or sister.

“I wanted more,” he says. “She wasn’t… sure. And then one day she was. She wanted a girl, I think, since Charlie was such a… boys boy.”

Sam stays silent.

“So we tried. She was still young and it didn’t… it happened a lot faster than when we tried for Charlie. She was four months along when it happened.”

Sam definitely isn’t thinking about sex anymore. She reaches across the little table and touches the top of his hand, rubs her thumb over his rough knuckles. 

“Does Charlie know?” she asks.

“We’d told him, you know, at the time, but he was little and I never remind him so I don’t think he remembers that part, no. Who would want to?” he asks. 

“I’m sorry, Jack,” she says. 

“Now you know all my secrets,” he says. It’s an attempt, she thinks, to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t quite work. 

“I’m glad you told me,” she says. She stands up to clear the table, to put the dinner things in the sink and run water over them. She’s wiping her hands on the towel that hangs from the refrigerator handle when he comes up behind her and touches her shoulder. 

She turns around, smiles softly at him. Rises up a little on the balls of her feet and kisses him high on his cheek, above the roughness from a day of growth. His hands rest on her waist and he moves his head so that her next kiss falls on his lips.

“I like you a lot, Sam,” he says. “Enough that I want to get the hard stuff out of the way.”

She doesn’t know what to do except kiss him again. She wraps her arms around him and he turns his head, buries it in her neck and takes a deep breath in.

oooo

“Please?”

“No,” Sam says.

“Please, please, please?”

“Nope,” Sam says.

“Pleeeeeeeeeeease?”

“Vala!” Sam says. “It’s a week night, we have school tomorrow, I am tired.”

“I’m not asking you to fly to Las Vegas, though I would go with you because I am a better friend than you, I just want you to come shopping with me for like one hour, Samantha, that is all!” Vala says. “Come on. Girls! Shopping! We can talk about our breasts and possibly drink a smoothie. Whatever we want!”

“I have like three hours of grading to do tonight,” she says. “Take Janet.”

“Janet is a mum, she has mum things to do,” Vala says.

“Take Carolyn,” Sam says.

“She’s got a _baby_ ,” Vala says. “What is wrong with you?”

“Take Daniel,” Sam says. 

Daniel, who is at the table with them, scoffs from behind his newspaper. She’s pretty sure he’s just hiding behind it. Coward.

“Can’t we go this weekend?” she asks.

Daniel folds down the paper so that he can shake his head at Sam. “You’ve just lost,” he says. 

“No I haven’t,” Sam snaps.

“You’ve agreed to go with her,” Daniel says. “Now she’ll just wear you down until she gets what she wants. Just give in.”

“Charlie has a game,” Sam says, ignoring him.

“In Briargate,” Daniel says. “Not even a home game.”

“Yay!” Vala says, standing. “It’s settled. See you after school.” She practically skips away.

“Why and also, how come?” Sam asks. 

“Better you that me,” he says, returning to the paper. It’s a paper from three days ago, not even current. She snatches it out of his hands and wads it up into a ball and then throws it at him.

“Rude,” he says.

She imagines that Vala must have a reason for wanting to go to the mall badly enough that she spent half her lunch hour whining about it, but it turns out her car is in the shop and she just needs her fix.

“One hour,” Sam says. “Then I’m taking you home or leaving your ass here.”

“I hear things are going quite well with Jack,” Vala says, ignoring Sam’s threat. They are in Sam’s car and she’s circling the parking lot in the afternoon rush, trying to find a spot. 

“Hear from whom?” Sam asks. 

“People,” she says. “Peeps.”

Sam pulls into a space toward the back of the lot and shuts off the engine. “Things are fine with Jack.”

Vala looks at her sideways but doesn’t press.

“Do you know who really likes you?” Vala asks, once they’re inside the Macy’s, looking at shoes.

“Who?”

“Charlie,” Vala says. “He talks about you all the time.”

“I can’t help but feel we are on some sort of mission for you to get information,” Sam says, picking up a pair of ballet flats. She needs a brown pair, but this isn’t really the right brown. She puts them down again. 

Vala is slipping a pair of heels on, at least four inches, black. They’re beautiful shoes.

“What do you think?” Vala asks. Sam nods.

“Pretty,” she says. “I could wear those for about an hour and then I’d just die.”

“I don’t have feeling in my feet anymore,” Vala says, but she takes off the shoe and puts it back. 

They move on to handbags. Vala is tactile, touching everything, dragging her fingertips across the soft leather of an emerald green handbag and then touching lightly the tassel that hangs from the zipper of a caramel colored purse that is large enough to fit Sam’s whole apartment inside, practically. Or a small dog, at least. 

Sam has two purses - one black, one brown. Mostly, she throws everything into a tote bag, her purse included. Maybe she should get a nice, large bag so she could carry around a large amount of things but the container would be more stylish than the faded canvas bag she’d gotten for being a member of the Friends of the San Diego Public Library. 

She spies a large navy bag that’s nice. It has short handles, not the long strap she’s used to, but it’s not too busy and it has a little pocket for her cell phone. She picks it up. 

“Ugh,” Vala says. “Nope.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Sam asks.

“It’s boring,” Vala says. “It’s a big blue box.”

“It’s practical,” Sam says. 

“It has no personality. Is that what you want to say to people? Hello, my name is Samantha and I like to eat dry wheat toast?” 

Sam smiles. “No.”

“How about this?” Vala says, grabbing a medium sized black vinyl bag that has metal studs along the zipper.

“Too much,” Sam says. “Too… shiny.” 

Vala puts it back. “It was like two hundred dollars anyway.”

“Yikes,” Sam says. They walk down another row. “How about a metallic. How about this silvery one?” she asks, pointing down to a slouchy bag hanging from a low peg. 

“That’s… not bad,” Vala says. She picks it up and hands it to Sam. Sam glances at the price tag - fifty bucks - and looks inside. It’s deep, has several smaller compartments, but not so many things will get lost.

“Do think I could fit a physics textbook in here?” she asks.

“That is… not the point,” Vala says sadly. 

“I will take that as a yes,” Sam says. 

She buys the bag. 

They stop and get coffee before Sam takes Vala home. Sitting at one of the little tables Vala says, “Thanks for shopping with me.”

“It was fun,” Sam relents. 

“I’m not particularly good at having female friends,” Vala admits. “I come on a little strong, I suppose.”

“I like enthusiasm,” Sam says.

“Other women think I’m too frivolous,” Vala says. “I understand that.” 

“I think women are told to be threatened of other women who appear feminine and who are beautiful,” Sam says. “But that is bad advice. I’m happy we’re friends.” 

Vala’s smile brightens the dim coffee shop considerably. 

oooo

“Hey,” Charlie says, coming in a few minutes before lunch is over. Sam is blissfully alone in her classroom. She’d begged off any invites from other teachers and has been grading papers while eating her lunch. 

“Mr. O’Neill,” she says. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Um,” Charlie says, shaking his head. “No, don’t be weird.”

“Sorry,” she says. “What’s up?”

“You want to come over for dinner tonight?” he asks, his thumbs hooked over the straps of his backpack. 

“Are you asking me out on a date?” she asks. “Charlie that is incredibly inappropriate!”

“I said don’t make it weird!” he says. “My dad asked me to ask you and I was like, no, that will be weird, and he was all, it’ll be fine Charlie, and I was like nope, weird! But I agreed to do it anyway and here we are!” He drops his bag at his desk.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says. “Yes, tell him yes.” He’s fun to tease, gets so flustered. It’s hard to resist. 

“Okay, see you later,” Charlie says.

“Class starts in 8 minutes,” she says.

“I’m not wasting 8 minutes,” he says, and walks out. 

Sam rides over to Jack’s house around six thirty. She can smell the barbecue the moment she takes her helmet off. Jack’s kind of a one trick pony as far as cooking goes. He can use his grill, but side dishes are always something that comes from a box or pre-prepared from the store. She can’t hardly judge, she’s no culinary master herself. 

Jack kisses her cheek when she comes up onto the deck. She can see Charlie inside playing video games, so he can see them, too. 

“What’s cooking?” she asks.

“Steaks,” he says. 

She knocks on the glass and waves. Charlie dips his head toward her, though he doesn’t look away from the screen.

“Doesn’t he have homework? I know I gave him homework,” she says.

“Yeah, he’ll do it after dinner,” Jack says. “You can’t fight the video games. I tried.” 

“Fair enough,” she says. 

“I thought maybe we’d mention the house,” Jack says. “He knows the frat boys have been evicted, but it’s his house, so I guess he ought to have some say on who lives there.” 

“Of course,” she says. 

Sam convinces Charlie to pause his game and help her in the kitchen. There are two bag salads that she hands him. He pulls a large metal bowl from a cupboard and pulls at one of the bags. It opens forcefully and about half of the lettuce flies into the bowl. The rest of it lands on the counter and some on the floor. 

“Whoops,” he says. 

There’s also a couple boxes of mac and cheese. Sam fills the stockpot with water and sets it on the stove to boil. Charlie, having learned nothing, does the exact same thing with the second bag of salad. 

“Go play video games,” Sam says. “Go, go, get out.” He leaves, gratefully.

Sam watches Jack out the kitchen window while she waits for the water to boil. He stands at the grill, relaxed posture, prodding at the steaks with his tongs. She sees him drink from his bottle of beer and then shrug and pour the beer across the steaks. The grill hisses and flames up. 

“Lord help us,” she mutters. She’d grown up with a man and his teenage son, after all. She knows how men live, how _people_ live when someone is missing. When things are always incomplete. 

Not that she’s any sort of replacement, not that she can mend things. But she can, certainly, help. She can toss a salad, she can pour pasta into boiling water. 

Jack brings in the meat just as she’s pulling the pot off the stove and dumping everything into the strainer in the sink. She closes her eyes against the cloud of hot steam that rises. She feels the ghost of a touch across her back.

“Charlie! Come set the table!” Jack calls. 

Charlie comes in looking slightly perplexed. Generally they eat out on the deck or in the living room, but Jack is already clearing mail and books and homework off of the dining room table. A wooden table emerges. Jack sprays it with a cleaner of some sort and wipes it down while Charlie gets plates from the cupboard. Sam adds the butter and the milk and the cheese and stirs the pasta. It makes a slurpy, sucking noise as everything dissolves and melts into one big cheesy mess.

Jack puts the platter of steaks on the table and then the bowl of salad and tosses down an old square oven mitt so Sam can put the hot pot of mac and cheese on the table as well. 

Charlie fills up a pitcher with ice water.

“Okay,” Jack says. “See? We can do regular meals.”

“You did a whole thanksgiving here,” Sam says. “I had every faith in you.” 

She and Charlie sit down, but Jack pulls a bottle of red wine from the cupboard above the refrigerator and then two glasses out.

“I’m good with water,” Charlie says.

“Ha _ha_ ,” Jack replies. 

Sam fills Charlie’s plate with salad and pasta and lets him point to the steak he wants. They’re all about the same size - maybe one is a little smaller and she takes that one for herself. Jack finds the wine opener in a drawer and when the cork comes out, it does so with an audible pop. He pours them both two glasses - she drinks her water first to let the wine breathe for a bit. 

The steak is pretty good.

“So,” Charlie says, midway through the meal. “Can I spend the night over at Jason’s?”

“What?” Jack asks. “It’s a school night.”

“I know,” he says. “But we are going to get up early and work out before class.”

“Why did you wait until now to mention this?” Jack asks.

“He just texted me,” Charlie says. “Coach Mitchell always opens up the weight room for zero period. And Jason is in my English class so we can do the homework together.”

“What about your physics homework?” Sam asks.

“That’s done,” he says. She smiles. 

“Good.”

“I don’t know, Charlie,” Jack says. “I don’t like you going out on school nights.”

“Would you prefer to wake up early enough to take me in for a zero period work out?” Charlie asks. “You’re always saying I need to build up my muscle mass for football.” 

“I guess if Jason’s parents say it’s all right,” he says. 

“Cool, cool,” he says. “Thank you.”

“But if you show up exhausted to school tomorrow because you two idiots stayed up all night, then this sort of thing is out of the question,” Jack says.

“We’re teenagers, we love sleep, it’ll be okay,” Charlie says. He shovels more food into his mouth. “I’m going to go pack a bag.”

Sam just can’t help it. “House to ourselves,” she says from behind the rim of her wineglass. 

Jack looks at her, his eyes slightly wider than usual. Then his mouth curls up a little into a smirk.

“Cool,” he says. 

Jack gives Charlie a ride, but before he leaves, he kisses her cheek and says into her ear, “Don’t go anywhere.”

She doesn’t plan to.

oooo

Sam’s phone alarm goes off at 4:30 and she silences it before it wakes up Jack. He snuffles in his sleep, but doesn’t move. She slips out of the bed and stretches, the cool morning air on her skin. It’s only just starting to get light out, the sky a dull bluish gray. Her clothes are scattered across the floor and she’s a little sore as she bends over to find her jeans. She pulls them on and then tucks her underwear into her back pocket. Her bra is a bit of a challenge, but she finally finds it over by the window. She puts it on and turns around to see Jack watching her.

“Hey,” he says.

“It’s early,” she says softly, even though they are alone in the house. “Go back to sleep.”

But he sits up, the blanket falling down to his waist. She glances at his bare chest and feels her face get warm. He’s just so attractive. 

“You could stay,” he says. “I could make breakfast.”

“I would love that,” she says. “But I need to go home and shower and change my clothes.”

Jack nods and then, maybe surprising them both, says, “Can I come with you?”

“Oh,” she says. “Well. I guess. Sure.”

“I just…” he shakes his head. “I had a really good time, and…”

“Of course you can come with me,” she says, firmly. “But you have to get up.”

He puts on some clothes and grabs a few things and follows her home in his truck. It’s totally ridiculous, the fact that he’s coming home with her, but it’s strange and sweet. It makes her stomach flutter and the soreness between her legs start to pulse into something different. 

He keeps his hand on her back when she unlocks her front door and when they’re inside, he kisses her. She’s shy about it because he has brushed his teeth but she hasn’t. 

“I need to shower,” she whispers. “Do you want to…?”

“Yeah,” he says. 

Sam feels like she’s probably too old for shower sex and Jack has two bad knees, so there isn’t anything especially acrobatic that happens. But it’s still the best shower she’s taken in a long time. It’s nice to have his body pressed against hers from head to foot, to have the hot water spill down over them. She loves the way he rests his chin on her shoulder and then tucks his face into her neck. He’s only slightly taller than her, so they are well matched. She can kiss him without strain and when he presses her against the shower wall, the tiles cool on her heated back, he doesn’t have to hunch over to kiss her. He slides his hand down her hip to her thigh and lifts one leg. She hooks it over his hip and his hand slips down. He’s so gentle because he knows she’s tender.

By the time they get out of the shower, the hot water has run out and she feels light headed and boneless. She pulls them to her bed, letting the sheets absorb any water. 

“You don’t have to,” Jack says as she swings one leg over him.

“I want to,” she promises. “I really, really want to.”

They’re almost late. 

There are already kids in the hall waiting by her classroom door. She unlocks the door and turns on the light.

“Good morning!” she says, cheerfully. 

She gets a smattering of dark looks and someone mutters, “Since when?”

Teenagers are not morning people. 

She’s tired, too. She’d traded coffee for sex and while the buzz will carry her through her morning classes, she knows by the first break of the day, she’ll be feeling the strain. 

Still, though. 

She smiles to herself.


	8. Summer Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Geography is just physics slowed down, with a couple of trees stuck in it."_
> 
> \-- Terry Pratchett

This is the first weekend that Sam is going to spend at the house. Charlie has been open to the idea, though distant. He obviously doesn't want to talk about it. 

Jack is taking Charlie to Denver for the day for his birthday. They’d offered to bring Sam along but she has no desire to go to a Rockies game or do any of the other things they’ve got on their itinerary. 

She’d suggested they go for the whole weekend, but AP tests are on the horizon and Charlie needs to study. His words. 

Jack leaves a set of keys with Sam and gives her the number of his contractor. The kitchen has been gutted - hell, most of the house has been gutted. The new toilets are all in - Jack had complained, “I just dropped five hundred dollars on something that you crap into.” She’d laughed.

She picks up her tools from her storage unit and takes them over to the new house. She has some idea of what needs to be done, but she needs to take a good hard look and make a list of supplies they’ll need. And she doesn’t want to do anything cosmetic without Jack and Charlie approving them. But there are things she can do. She unlocks the door and first things first, goes around and opens all the windows and the back door because it has a screen. She’s not sure she’ll ever really get the place aired out. 

The kitchen is basically a skeleton. Jack had decided to keep the cabinets and just repaint them. The kitchen fire had been at the stove and there had been black smoke up the wall, but that’s been torn out. There are no counters, and a hole where the sink had been. There’s a new sink just sitting on the floor. She could install that. She could spend the day ripping up the linoleum. 

Hell, she could just wash every wall in the house. It’ll all need to be primed and painted. 

She carries her tools in the from the car - it takes a couple trips. She has a lot of tools. They’ll have to rent some though, definitely a sander for the floors. She wants a dark stain. She has a feeling that Jack will okay whatever color choices she has, but she’ll still ask. It’s hard not to wonder what the house looked like before the frat boys. What it looked like when it was the house Jack lived in with his family. With his wife. 

She starts with the sink. 

oooo

Sam can hear them arguing all the way up the front walk. She thinks they probably don’t realize all the windows are open.

“I told you, it’s not a big deal,” Charlie says.

“I think it is a big deal, kiddo,” Jack replies.

“Dr. Shapiro said I should come do this like three years ago,” Charlie says. “It’s past time.”

“Well you never did, though,” Jack says. “Which made me suspect that you didn’t want to.”

“ _You_ didn’t want me to,” Charlie says. “You always put it off. I figured _you_ weren’t ready.” 

“Don’t worry about me. I come here all the time,” Jack says.

Sam has stilled, her hand hovering in the air. She’s afraid to make noise that they will hear; she’s afraid to make noise because she won’t be able to hear them. She’d been filling in small holes in the wall with spackle and she so carefully and quietly puts the lid back on the container so it doesn’t dry out. They have obviously stopped on the front walk somewhere because the sound of their voices doesn't move any closer. 

“I’m worried about you worrying about me,” Charlie says. Jack makes a huffy noise.

“You don’t have to go in is all I’m saying,” Jack says, sounding sharp and mean.

“What do you think is going to happen, dad?” Charlie asks. “I’m going to kill her again? I’m gonna kill my physics teacher? It’s over. It happened. _Move on_.”

Sam closes her eyes and bites the tip of her tongue to give herself an anchor. It’s so difficult to hear. It’s difficult to hear them communicate so poorly - have they ever talked about it? - and it’s difficult to hear the venom in their voices. She’s never heard Charlie talk like that, ever. He sounds cruel and wounded. 

There’s a long silence that just drags on and on and then a hard knock on the door. 

Sam sets down the putty knife carefully and wipes her hands on her pants. She waits a moment and then opens the door with a smile.

“Hey guys!” she says. “How was Denver?”

“Fine,” Jack says. He holds out his hand, telling Charlie to walk in first. “Charlie, knock yourself out.” 

“Charlie,” Sam says, hoping to divert the conversation. “I got you something.” 

There’s a gift wrapped box on a folding chair by the door and she picks it up and hands it to him. It’s large box and they struggle to exchange it.

“Your dad said it was okay,” she says, preemptively, which may be a mistake after what she’d just overheard, but it doesn’t stop him from setting the box on the ground and then crouching to open it. 

Inside is a motorcycle helmet. It’s a good one, one that will cover his whole head, that has a polycarbonate visor that lifts up and down. It’s a dark green. 

“Wow,” he says. “Wow, this is really cool.”

“Try it on,” Sam says.

He does, struggles for just a moment before he gets it on. She reaches out and knocks on his head. He spins around, looking a full three hundred and sixty degrees before he pulls it off again. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“I told Sam she could teach you to ride,” Jack says. “You can learn on the Harley.”

“Really?” Charlie asks. 

“I’d rather you learn with someone who knows what they are doing so you’re safe,” Jack says.

“That’s awesome,” Charlie says. “Thanks.”

Jack doesn’t stay. He goes off to run some errands. Sam starts Charlie in the kitchen, scraping up the old linoleum. When Jack comes back a few hours later, he has lunch. Charlie is sweaty and dirty but most of the floor is up and he’s taking a break, doing Chemistry homework. 

“Did he go upstairs?” Jack asks when Charlies goes into the bathroom to wash his hands.

Sam shakes her head no.

oooo

“Tomorrow is your AP Physics exam,” Sam says Monday morning. “Who is excited?”

She’s met by a sea of faces, most dead in the eyes, a few openly terrified. Charlie rubs his palms on his jeans, Cassie stares so hard at her desk that Sam expects it to smolder. Trevor’s knee is bouncing up and down so fast that his whole desk rattles. Patricia looks bored and angry and lets her face rest against her hand, like she has to prop herself up. 

“Great,” Sam says. “Me too.”

They’ve gone over all of this before, but it’s too late to prepare them for material, so she spends it trying to prepare them for the actual test.

“Your test is when?” she asks.

“Tomorrow,” they drone back.

“And you sit it where?” she asks.

“The library,” they say.

“And it starts when?” she asks.

“Noon,” they reply, though they sound less sure now. 

“I will be there,” she promises. “I will be right outside of the library. If you come here and I’m not in the classroom, then you know you’re in the wrong place.”

She spent the hour giving them study tips. “Read all the questions first and then answer them in the order that feels comfortable to you.”

“Hard ones first?” one of the Jennifers ask. 

“Well,” she says. “I might do the ones I was certain of first and then tackle the harder ones. At least then you know you’ll have some answered correctly.”

She reminds them to eat breakfast and that coffee alone is not considered breakfast. 

“Even if you add cream to it, Cassandra Frasier,” she says pointedly.

Cassie, as always, rolls her eyes.

A quiet girl, one of the Jennifers, raises her hand and says, “If we don’t pass the AP test, do we fail this class?”

“No,” Sam says. “I mean, _I_ will have failed, but the AP test doesn’t affect your grade.” 

This seems to bolster some spirits, at least. 

“Relax,” she says, just before the bell rings. “You are all as prepared as you can be. It’ll be fine.” 

It’s a lie, but a kind one. She wants to tell them just to try and not fuck it all up, but she can’t, so she offers pleasant words instead. 

oooo

Sam sits with Daniel behind the tall circulation desk in the library. It’s been interesting, juggling the AP tests with her regular classes. She can’t just ditch her afternoon classes to sit in here and watch her AP class take their test, but there’s a little overlap and she’s in it now. Daniel looks tired, like he isn’t used to people actually being in his library.

Sam herself feels mopey and slightly out of sorts. She’s got cramps and under slept trying to get through the bulk of her grading so she wouldn’t have to spend all her weekends doing it. Daniel keeps glancing over at her and then quickly back at his computer monitor like she won’t notice. 

“What?” she says finally. They have to speak softly, but they’re far enough from the kids that they can still talk.

“Nothing,” he says.

“Then stop gawking at me,” she mutters. 

“So you and Jack and banging pretty regularly now, huh?” he asks.

She stares at him, her mouth hanging open.

“I’m just saying,” he says.

“Like?” she sputters. “How is that your business at all?”

“Well, it’s not,” he says. “But gossip seldom is.” 

“This is a weird school,” she says, slouching on her stool. She wishes she had a chair with back support. 

“Jack seems happy, is all,” he says, shrugging. “It’s nice. He’s not usually so, um, jovial.”

“Jovial,” Sam repeats. Jack is not prone to emotional displays. She wonders how he was before she met him if this is what Daniel considers jovial. “Well, I mean. Good?”

“Yeah,” Daniel says.

“It’s actually sort of difficult,” she says. “Finding time to date. Between work and the house and sports and Charlie, alone time is scarce.” 

“Summer is so close we can taste it,” Daniel says. 

Someone coughs and every head looks up to glare at that person. Cassie sighs so loudly that Daniel snorts back laughter.

“She’s like the most angry teenager girl I’ve ever met,” he says. “I find that delightful.”

“It’s hard being a teenage girl,” Sam says. “I’d be mad too.”

“Were you mad?” he asks. “At her age.”

“Just sad,” she says. “Dead mom.”

“Oh right,” he says.

“I mean, think about it though. Growing up in a world that almost completely favors men, right when you’re developing sexually so the men who have dismissed you for your entire life suddenly are paying attention to you but in all of the wrong, most demeaning ways. And anything you like is considered stupid or frivolous or if it’s not stupid, the teenage girl is considered stupid for liking something she couldn’t possibly understand.” Sam shakes her head. “The entire system is against you and somehow makes you believe it’s your fault, so yeah, anger is the correct response. Why aren’t more of them angry?” she asks.

Daniel stares at her. 

“You disagree?” she demands.

“Nope,” he says. “I’m a little scared for Jack, now.” 

“Jack can take care of himself,” she says. “Jack is no dummy.”

Someone raises their hand. There is someone there to actually proctor the test and she and Daniel watch her walk over, confer with the student, and then point to the clock. The student sinks wearily back down into her chair. 

“Pee on your own time,” Sam whispers.

Daniel snorts again.

“What’s going on with you and Vala?” she asks.

Daniel sees something of sudden interest on his computer screen and leans in, squinting. “Hmm?” he says absently.

“I mean, did you try and it didn’t work out or…?”

“Hmm.” Daniel’s reply is a little sharper.

“If you can get past the shiny stuff and sheer volume, she’s really nice, Daniel. Don’t you think?”

Daniel sighs, whips his glasses off and rubs his eyes with two fingers. 

“Not so fun, is it?” Sam asks. “I have a thousand questions. I could ask them all day.”

The bell buzzes and she glances at the clock. 

“Time’s up,” Daniel says. “Bye now.”

“To be continued,” she says pointing at him as she hops off the stool. “I promise.”

“Hmmm,” is all he says.

oooo

Sam gives notice to the apartment complex. People are constantly moving in and out of the place - there’s always a moving truck double parked somewhere. The rent is reasonable, the neighborhood is good, and they offer month to month. All in all, it wasn’t so bad, this little place. 

Jack comes over to help her start packing up the first morning that school is out. They’re both tired - they’d had to work graduation and a few grad night events, but it’s a good tired. 

“Where’s Charlie?” she asks when she opens the door. Jack has a grey t-shirt on, jeans, and a ball cap with the Liberty logo on it, just green and a little faded from use. She feels a pang when she looks at him, like she is undeserving of his attention. He so stoic, in a way, it’s hard to know what he’s thinking and sometimes it gets too easy to assume that he’s thinking he’d rather be elsewhere with someone older or younger or more athletic or prettier. 

“He informed me that it was the first day of summer and he’d be sleeping all day,” he says. “So just me.”

She steps aside and lets him in. She’s got flat boxes from the a moving truck rental place, rolls of tape and she’d bought a couple Sunday newspapers to wrap up her breakables with. She sticks her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and looks around as he closes the door.

“Where do you want to start?” she asks.

“Bed,” he says, hooking his hand around her elbow and giving it a gentle tug. “If that’s okay with you.”

She smiles at him, relief spreading in her chest like balm on a burn. 

She gets a little red from his stubble, mostly around her mouth and down her neck. There’s an angry patch above her right breast that she looks at while she washes her hands. It feels like such a luxury, this mid-morning liaison. Jack makes her whole body hum like there’s something electric in her blood.

When she comes out of the bathroom, he’s still sprawled across the mattress, dozing. She pulls her robe from the top of her dresser and puts it on, tying it around her waist tightly. She’ll let him sleep. 

She clicks her bedroom door closed as softly as she is able to, and then goes about getting to work. She puts together a few small boxes, the packing tape screeching as it unrolls. She pauses to see if it wakes up Jack, but the bedroom door doesn’t open. She starts in the kitchen with the business section of the paper. She’ll wrap up the things she never uses - the rice steamer, the french press that is lovely to look at but too much work to actually use on any regular basis. She wraps the two vases that she owns - one crystal one that had been her mothers, the other from the roses Jack had sent a few months back. 

She tosses a couple pot holders in to fill up the rest of the box and then pushes it aside. 

She’s wrapping up wine glasses when the bedroom door opens and Jack comes out in his boxers and his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she says. She’s sitting at the dining room table so she has to look up at him. 

“I wanted,” he says and then pauses.

“What?”

“To keep you in bed all day, I guess,” he says. She laughs, not at the notion of spending all day with him, but at the idea that either of them are young enough to manage it. 

“I’m too old for that,” she says kindly. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I know we don’t always get the chance,” he shrugs. “Which is why I think we should go to the cabin this summer.”

“You do?” she thinks. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ve been thinking about it. Charlie is going to baseball camp for a week in July.”

“You want to go without Charlie?” she asks.

“He could come after camp,” Jack says. “That way we get a little time to ourselves first.”

“What about the house?” she asks.

“The house’ll hold,” he says.

She finishes wrapping up the last wine glass, tucks it into the box and says, “Okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Why not?” she says. She can’t think of a good reason not to go and it sounds like it could be fun.

“That’s the spirit,” he says. “Why not.”

She rolls her eyes but kisses him anyway.

oooo

Charlie attends a national baseball camp in Iowa, so they decide to drive to the cabin and drop him off on the way. It’s a little tight in the truck because Charlie has gotten so tall that the back seat is cramped for him, but he doesn’t complain that much about it. Sam offers to switch with him for awhile. And they do because Charlie has his license now so Jack lets him drive for a bit and Sam sits in the back reading on her ebook reader. 

“How do you read in the car?” Jack asks, looking back at her which he does a lot, she’s noticed.

“Doesn’t bother me,” she says.

“Makes me sick,” he says. He faces forward again but Charlie is a good driver and they’re on a long, flat stretch of highway going straight. Sam looks back down at her book. 

“Sam?” Charlie says. He finally started using her name after the last day of school and she likes it.

“Yeah?” she asks. 

“What did you get on your AP tests?” he asks.

“AP wasn’t really a thing when I was in school,” she says. “You’ll do fine. You _did_ fine.”

“Okay,” he says.

“Don’t worry about grades, kiddo, think about baseball.” Jack sounds confident enough that Sam reaches up and swats at his head. “Hey!”

“Where did you go to college?” Charlie asks. 

“I went to the University of Chicago for my undergrad,” Sam says. “MIT for my masters.”

“Do you need a Masters to teach high school?” he asks, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. 

“No,” she says. “I actually was going to get my Ph.D. and do lab science, but I didn’t quite finish it.”

This gets Jack’s attention. “How far did you get?” he asks.

“I finished the coursework, I just never completed or submitted a thesis,” she says. 

“Why?” asks Charlie. 

It’s an uncomfortable subject, one that still makes shame heat the back of her neck even a decade later, but Charlie is curious about her and that’s good, it’s a step, and so she respects his question.

“I got engaged,” she says. “And I took some time off to plan the wedding.”

“You were married?” Charlie asks, but this time he looks at his father.

“No,” she says. “I didn’t end up getting married. I ended up moving to San Diego to live with my brother for awhile, I got a job at a high school to get back on my feet and I just never went back.”

“Oh,” says Charlie.

“I regret it,” Sam tells him. “Do all your schooling young because it’s hard to stop and start again.” 

“You could go back,” Jack says.

“That’s true,” she says. “But I’ve discovered that I actually really like teaching high school. And you don’t need a doctorate for that.”

“But then people could call you Dr. Carter,” Charlie says. “That would be awesome.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll look into it,” Sam says. 

Charlie is quiet for a few moments before he says, “Why didn’t you get married?”

“Charlie, that’s none of our business,” Jack snaps.

“It’s okay,” Sam says.

“No it isn’t,” Jack replies.

“I think it is our business,” Charlie says. His voice shakes a little, but he’s standing up to his father and maybe that isn’t a bad thing. “You said you want Sam to be a part of the family and that means we should know more stuff about her. Even hard stuff.”

“You said that?” Sam asks. “That’s sweet, Jack.”

Jack makes a gruff, embarrassed noise but does not correct his son again.

“Let’s see,” she says. “I didn’t get married because I realized that marrying the wrong person was a bad idea.”

“Seems reasonable,” Jack says. 

“Why did you say yes then?” Charlie says.

“Because I was young and I thought I was supposed to,” Sam says. “He was really smart but we wanted different stuff and when he realized I didn’t want to settle down and make babies right away, he got angry and his anger scared me.”

“Did he hurt you?” Jack asks. He asks it like he’s going to beat the guy up. Sam thinks about Jonas so rarely - she doesn’t even know where he is, anymore. Has no desire to find out.

“It was a long time ago,” is all Sam says. “I’m hungry. Shall we stop for lunch?”

oooo 

It’s not the camp that Sam imagined. She was thinking rustic, cabins, a lake with a row of canoes at the shore, but instead they drop Charlie off in Cedar Falls at the University of Northern Iowa. He’ll spend the week sleeping in a dorm room, not a sleeping bag. Charlie isn’t nervous, he’d come to the same camp last year.

He pulls his canvas duffel bag out of the bed of the truck and slings it over his shoulder.

“See you in a week,” he says.

“Nice try,” says Jack.

They stay with him through check in and help him find his room. His roommate is a boy named Alexander and he’s gotta be like 6’4” because even Jack looks up at him. Charlie shakes his hand and Sam swells with pride - Charlie is such a nice, good kid. She knows it’s nothing she’s done, but she gets to be a part of his life and that’s enough to feel proud. 

When it’s really time to go, Charlie and Jack hug and then, before she knows it, Charlie is hugging her too and he’s tall enough to kiss the top of her head and it’s so sweet that she tears up.

“Bye, Sam,” he says.

As they’re walking down the hall, she hears Alexander say, “Your parents seem cool.”

And Charlie says, “They are.”

Jack squeezes her hand.

oooo

There’s a picture of Sara on the mantle in the cabin. It’s not just Sara, she’s obviously holding Charlie who is still a chubby baby. They’re in a row boat and Sara is young - younger than Sam is now. Sam picks the picture up and dusts it off with her sleeve. 

Sara was attractive - no typical beauty queen, but pretty enough. She was blonde - not quite as blonde as Sam - and tan and she looks happy. She wishes she could see Jack, too, that young. 

“Oh,” he says, coming into the living room. “Ah. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she murmurs, replacing the frame carefully. “Can I help with something?”

Jack has already carried in their bags. They stopped in the town closest to the cabin - a good twenty mile drive and bought groceries and ice. Jack had packed a big empty cooler and it had made sense when, in the parking lot of the grocery store, they’d dumped the ice into and loaded up the milk and ice cream and other perishables for the rest of the drive. They’ll have to go back to pick up Charlie and they’ll stop again, but this will take them through the week. 

“Unload the groceries?” Jack asks. 

They do it together. The fridge is still warm but it’s humming and it’ll cool down soon enough. Sam unloads things and hands them to Jack who nestles them into the small refrigerator. He has a place for everything - boxes of cereal, the canister of oatmeal, the two loaves of bread, the bottles of alcohol - wine and vodka and two cases of beer. Potato chips, lunch meat, boxes of mac and cheese. He even scoops up what’s left of the ice and puts it into the freezer, dumping the rest over the railing of the deck onto a patch of grass trying to grow through a blanket of pine needles. 

The kitchen faucet sputters when she turns it on and it makes her jump a little but after a few seconds, the water runs clean and strong. She rinses her hands off and the water is so cold, comes out freezing. She must make some expression that says how cold it is because he says, “Best drinking water in the world.”

“How long has this cabin been here?” she asks. The appliances are old, the decor dated.

“I think Jesus stayed here once,” he says. She rolls her eyes. “It was built in the forties.”

“Who built it?” she asks.

“My grandfather,” he says. 

“I… I don’t know anything about your family,” she says. She has the assumption that Charlie is his only family because he’s never mentioned anyone else. 

“Only child,” he says. “My parents were dead before Charlie was born. Both of Sara’s parents are gone too. She has a sister, but she lives in New York and Charlie has only met her a handful of times.” He shrugs. 

“My sister-in-law keeps promising to come out to visit but I suspect I’m going to have to go out there before schools starts again,” she says. “I think Mark is kind of ticked at me for moving away. I have barely spoken to him since I left California.”

“He won’t talk to you?” Jack asks, surprised. 

“Well,” she says. “It’s like he’s never home when I call. I always just miss him. Or his wife relays messages. I’m not sure he’s doing it on purpose, but… I know he’s a busy guy with a tough job, I’m not mad or anything.” 

She’s a little hurt. She’s not sure what Mark expected - for her to just hang around forever? She’d stayed near when the kids were young but now they’re older and don’t need to be babysat so much. Sam had needed to get a life and now she has one she actually likes. 

Jack opens and the doors and windows that have screens and lets the place air out while she pokes around inside and out. It’s pretty isolated, but they are close to a pond and Jack says not far from a larger lake if she wants that, instead.

“No fish in this pond,” he says. “But we could still fish. If you wanted.” 

“Sure,” she says. 

He smiles, lopsided, guarded, but pure.

oooo

The pond is too cold for swimming even though it warms up during the day. She sits with her feet hanging over the edge of the dock, her toes dragging through the water.

She’s reading an old paperback she’d found in the cabin. There were some westerns, some dime store mysteries, and a couple romance novels. She’d grabbed a mystery but she isn’t very interested in it. Mostly it’s sitting in her lap while she watches the water swirl around her feet. 

Jack comes back out onto the dock with a soda for her and a beer for him and he settles back into his folding chair. 

“I was thinking about the house,” Jack says. 

“Which house?”

“The frat house,” he says. They have to find a better nickname for it, she thinks.

“What of it?” she asks.

“Well, you’re out of your rental now, and living in this half completed house,” he says.

“Yes, I know,” she says. It isn’t great. The place needs a new hot water heater, the flooring upstairs still needs to be replaced, and she thinks she’s going to have to completely refinish everything in the downstairs bathroom because replacing the toilet helped but the walls are dingy and she just can’t get the sink clean. But it isn’t unlivable.

“Maybe you should stay with me and Charlie until things are a little more put together?” he asks. 

“You want me to move in with you?” she asks. She feels her stomach bottom out and she can’t tell if it’s nerves or fear or something else, something good.

“I mean,” he says. “Not like move in, move in. Just stay for a while.”

“What does Charlie say?” she asks.

“Charlie thinks it’s funny that we pretend like we don’t have sex around him,” Jack says.

“You can Charlie talked about us having sex?” she asks, immediately mortified. 

“Not on purpose!” Jack says, holding up his hands in defense. “I asked him what he thought about you staying with us and he said something about booty calls being easier.” Jack frowns. “You’re more than a booty call to me, Carter.”

“Thanks,” she says, dryly.

“Anyway, he’s okay with it,” Jack says. “Are you?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Can I think about it?”

“Okay,” he says. “We can consider this trip practice.” 

He doesn’t bring it up again. Sam does think about it, thinks about waking up everyday to a place that isn’t empty. Thinks about coming home to a house that isn’t dark, waking up to the sound of someone moving around downstairs, the TV on low, the dishwasher humming, the buzz of the dryer. 

But the other side of that is living with a moody, damaged teen boy, a man who has a past so tragic that she still can’t tell how deep the hurt goes. Someone always touching her stuff, dishes in the sink, every dinner containing burnt red meat. Living alone can be lonely but living with other people is a lifelong series of concessions, always compromising so that everyone involved is the least amount of miserable possible.

In bed, the small lamp on the nightstand is glowing softly. Jack is propped up on a couple pillows, reading one of the tattered novels. She’s doing a crossword puzzle in a old book of them that she found. It’s easy, she’s filling it in rather methodically but it engages her brain enough that it lets her think freely of other things.

“What if,” she says, penciling in 26 across (Capital of Punjab; _Chandigarh_ ), “I move in and I like it but you decide that you don’t?”

“What if,” he says turning a page and not looking up at her, “wild monkeys start flying out of my butt?”

“What?” she asks.

“Oh, I thought we were asking stupid questions,” he says. 

“I’m trying to be serious,” she says. 

“You can’t anticipate every scenario,” he says, turning the book over on his lap and looking at her over the top of his reading glasses. “Sometimes it’s a gamble.”

“You can certainly think through your choices,” she says. “Aren’t you a tactical expert?”

“I was,” he says. “Now I coach high school sports.”

“Jack,” she sighs. 

“Yes,” he says. “I am a tactical expert and I think you moving in is tactically sound. I’m not going to suddenly stop liking you because you leave your dishes in the sink or take long poops.” 

She wrinkles up her nose. “I’m very regular,” she says. 

“Great,” he says. “That settles it.” 

She tosses the puzzle book on the floor next to the bed and slides down so her head is on the pillow. 

“You can say no, Carter,” he says. “I’ll live.” 

“I don’t want to say no,” she says, biting her lip. “I’m just scared.”

“Okay,” he says. They’re both quiet for awhile. Sam stares up at the wooden ceiling and Jack looks at his book, though he never turns the page. Finally, he closes it, tosses it on to the nightstand and whips off his reading glasses. “Is this because I haven’t said to you that I love you yet?” he says.

“I… Jack, no, I…” she fumbles, flustered. “I only want you to say that if you feel it. When you’re ready,” she says. “I haven’t said it either.”

“I do,” he says. “I love you. If that helps.”

“Jesus,” she says. “Fine. I love you, too.”

“Great,” he says, smiling smugly. 

“Good,” she says. She rolls over and closes her eyes. 

He pats her butt with no small amount of affection.


	9. Junior Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"An original idea. That can't be too hard. The library must be full of them."_  
>  \- Stephen Fry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so very, very late. I got married - which, as it turns out, is a very complicated and time consuming process. I also apologize for how this story turned out to be about nothing at all, but to be fair, it was right there in the title.

Jack leaves early to pick up Charlie. It seems like an insane amount of driving, hauling that truck back and forth across several states, but both Jack and Charlie seem used to long road trips – worse, they seem to find them fun.

“There’s something to it,” Jack says when she expresses hesitation over his drive. “Those long hauls. Flat road. Where all you have to do is just drive.”

She offers to go with him but he says that it’s fine so she stays behind at the cabin in the wilderness. Jack will be gone for most of the day. He leaves before the sun comes up, kissing her in the darkness of the bedroom, his mouth minty against hers warm with sleep. They’ll be back for dinner, maybe.

She sleeps a few more hours and then gets up, boils some water for the French press. There is a coffee pot but it doesn’t keep the coffee warm, like there’s something wrong with the burner that the pot sits on. At least with the French press, the coffee will taste better as it quickly cools. She takes her mug of coffee out to the dock and sits and watches the water. It’s still chilly and the water ripples with insects touching down on the surface. When the sun rises enough to hit her in the eyes, she goes back inside.

She showers in the dingy shower, washing her hair and shaving at the same time – the hot water is temperamental at best and she doesn’t linger. When she’s dressed, she eats a bowl of cereal and the washes her bowl and her spoon.

It’s still only nine am and she’s not sure, exactly, what Jack sees in all this isolation because she is _bored_. There’s no computer, no internet, no cable and though there is a VHS player, she has no desire to watch any of the tapes that sit next to the old TV, covered in dust. Especially the ones that look like old family movies.

She takes a walk, pulling on her good boots and lacing them up tight. She puts on sunscreen and insect repellent and takes a bottle of water with her. She doesn’t have a plan, just picks a direction and forges on. It’s lovely forest but that’s all it is. When she finds a stretch that seems flat, she breaks into an easy jog and eventually starts circling back around toward the cabin.

If she had a car, she might drive into town and eat lunch there, but she’s stuck here. The cabin emerges through the trees and she’s glad to see it. She slows down and then stops, bent over at the waist, breathing heavy and sweating. A small part of her wants to throw herself into the pond, but she thinks it’s still probably too cold and she’d regret it, so she pulls her shirt over her head and mops her brow with it and goes back inside where it’s cool and dark.

She needs another shower. 

Inside, the clock reads just after 10:00. 

oooo

Sam is elbow deep in the oven when she hears tires on the gravel. She’d started out cleaning it but it had sort of gotten complicated after that. She’d pulled it out and started tinkering with it, trying to work around parts that were so old they were obviously about to fail - no wonder the thing didn’t cook evenly! It was fifty years old, at least. Apparently, she’d lost track of time. She extracts herself from behind the old appliance and stands her, her spine cracking as she stretches. She realizes she’s totally filthy, covered with dust and grime and rust and grease. Even if she did manage to shove the old oven back in place, she knows that she’s not going to go unnoticed.

But when Jack comes in, he just looks at her, looks at the wreckage, shakes his head a little. She has not disappointed him, not even surprised him it seems. There’s something so _aw shucks_ about the way he puts his hands into the pockets of his coat and says, “Charlie is home.” 

“I’m fixing the oven,” she says. 

“Okay,” he replies.

A few moments later Charlie comes in and looks around and gives Sam a hug even though she’s all dirty and doesn’t touch him with her hands.

“How was camp?” she asks.

“Fine,” he says, staring at the oven. “So are we not eating dinner?”

oooo

Mark says they’ll stay in a hotel and that they’ll rent a car. Mark likes to be in control - and while the frat house isn’t in good enough shape for Sam to live in, let alone have guests, she still offers it to him. She offers to pick them all up from the airport, too, but Mark says no, it’s all taken care of and that they get in late from Denver and will see Sam in the morning. 

Sam hasn’t told Mark or Elizabeth about moving in with the O’Neills. It hasn’t come up and she doesn’t feel like explaining it. It feels like a reckless, impulsive decision even though she thought it out, thought it through, moved in slowly. Even though she could leave anytime. Mark met Elizabeth college and they married and that was that, they’ve been together ever since. He’d never done the date, break up, start over thing and it feels like he looks down his nose at the way his sister’s love life is always in shambles. 

Elizabeth knows about Jack, sort of. She doesn’t know that it has gotten pretty serious. And when they talk, they mostly talk about the kids. Her nephew, Matt, is thirteen now. In her last email, Elizabeth had written, “ _Don’t call him Matty. He likes Matthew now. I have no idea why._ ” Her niece, Katelyn, is nine and Sam wonders if it’s still okay to call her Katie or not. 

“You don’t have to spend any time with them,” Sam says as she and Jack are getting ready for bed. Charlie is out late with Cassie and a few other friends. Sam lets him drive her car, now. It’s a little easier than Jack’s big truck and with the motorcycles, she doesn’t feel trapped if the car isn’t there. Charlie is grateful and more careful than he might be otherwise, since it’s Sam’s car. 

“Why wouldn’t we spend time with them?” Jack asks.

“I mean you and Charlie,” she says. 

He squints at her, confused.

“If you don’t want to,” she says. 

“Do you not want me to spend time with your family?” he asks. “Because that sort of hurts my feelings.”

“I’m being serious,” she says.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”

He teases her a lot but when she looks up at him, she sees that maybe he is being serious. She sets down the little bottle of moisturizer she has in her hand and gives him all her attention. 

“I would love it,” she says. “I would love for you to meet my family.”

“Good,” he says.

“We’re having breakfast,” Sam says, “And then maybe taking the kids to the zoo.”

“I hear they let you feed the giraffes,” Jack says. 

“Do you think Charlie will want to come?” she asks.

“Maybe,” Jack says. “He likes giraffes pretty well.” 

“Someone should have warned me what falling in love with you would do to my blood pressure,” she mutters, climbing into the bed. But when he heads into the bathroom she just can’t help but smirk. A small smile, one sure to be gone before he comes back. 

oooo

Sam gets up so early, earlier, even, than Jack. Jack rises early due to necessity and so when necessity does not dictate it, he prefers sleep. But when Sam wakes up this morning, Jack gets up, too. He puts on his light, summer robe and follows her down the stairs. When she starts to make coffee, he takes the pot from her hand and takes over the task, touching her neck lightly before turning away.

When she looks at him, she gets goosebumps, she feels like the air is being pushed out of her body to make room for something so much bigger. It’s how she felt the first time she held her baby nephew and niece, it’s how she felt when she rode a motorcycle for the first time, it’s how she feels when she hears someone with a beautiful voice singing a Christmas hymn. 

She never thinks about getting married until she does. She finds herself thinking about it more and more often now. 

Charlie decides that he will come to the zoo but not to an 8am breakfast. So Sam showers and then Jack does, too. Jack wears a button down shirt and his nice jeans, the only pair he has that aren’t fraying at the bottoms and sag only a little. He doesn’t wear a ball cap which means he’s really trying to impress. 

“You look nice,” she says, and she means it. He smiles. 

“I showered,” he says. 

They take the truck to the restaurant. Sam is excited to see her family, but a little nervous too. It feels like they’ve come out to see if this new life is worth leaving them behind for. Sam knows that’s silly, but Mark had been so upset when she’d told him she was moving and they still haven’t cleared the air, a year later. Her brother has been sulking. Maybe she has, a little, too. 

The restaurant parking lot is crowded, so Jack offers to park the truck while she goes inside. She looks past the hostess and points to her brother who she can see from across the room. 

“I’m with them,” she says. “And my, um, my friend is too, he’s right behind me trying to park.”

“Sure,” says the girl. “What’s his name?”

“Jack,” she says. “He’s like 6’1”, salt and pepper hair.”

“I’ll make sure he finds you,” she says.

Sam weaves her way through the tables. She can see her brother, her sister-in-law, the two kids and strangely, another body.

On the phone, Mark had said, “Six for breakfast right?” She’d said, “Right,” not really thinking about it. Assuming that Elizabeth had mentioned Jack. But there is a man who is standing up to greet her with the rest of the family, his round face breaking into a hopeful smile as he looks at her. She decides to just ignore it for the moment, hugging Elizabeth, kissing her brother’s cheek, touching the kid’s heads.

“Sam, this is Pete Shanahan,” her brother says. “My buddy. He came down from Denver.”

“Hi,” Sam says, and though he seems perfectly nice and though her brother is perfectly welcome to have other friends to see while he is in Colorado, she has a weird feeling about this. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were bringing a friend, Mark.” She looks at her sister-in-law kind of desperately. Elizabeth just rolls her eyes shrugs. “We’re going to need another place setting.”

“What?” Mark says. 

“For Jack,” Sam says, making herself sound more apologetic than she actually feels. Elizabeth, finally, jumps in and says, “Always room for more!”

There’s chaos as they try to scoot the kids in and put another chair on the end and they’re still in the middle of it when Jack comes in - he finds them easily enough. It doesn’t take a hostess to point out the one table that is standing and loudly disrupting everyone’s breakfast. 

Sam ends up wedged between Jack and her brother, directly across from Pete. Their waiter smiles though seems annoyed at the uneven numbers. He brings another plate, another rolled up set of silverware. He brings coffee and orange juice and Sam stirs a packet of sweetener into her coffee mug while Mark and Elizabeth stare at each other. Her nephew elbows her niece and that causes another round of inappropriately loud behavior that carries them through ordering.

“So,” Elizabeth says finally. “Jack, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Jack says. “I’ve heard a lot about the Carter clan.” 

That’s not exactly true, but Sam doesn’t argue with it. “All good things,” Sam chimes in. Jack glances over at her but doesn’t say anything.

“How do you and Sam know each other?” Elizabeth asks.

“We work together,” Sam says. “Jack is the coach at the high school where I teach.”

Elizabeth, of course, knows this but she’s trying to bring everyone on to the same page, which clearly they are not.

“Pete’s a detective,” Mark says. “In Denver.”

“Is that so?” Sam says. “That must be exciting.”

“I like it,” says Pete. 

“How do you and Mark know each other?” Sam asks, politely. Here is a man who Sam has never even heard of crashing their family reunion, she’s curious to know why Mark thought it appropriate to bring him along.

“I used to live in Colorado Springs,” Pete says. “We were friends when Mark was going to the Air Force Academy.”

“So you’re ex-military?” Jack asks him. Barks at him, more like.

“No,” Pete says. “I went law enforcement.”

“Mark is a Colonel, now,” Sam says. “Well, Lieutenant Colonel.” She’s not sure why she qualifies it, exactly. Mark gives a wan smile. 

“Mom, can I have your phone?” Matt asks.

“I want to look at a phone!” Katie chimes in.

“No phones!” Mark barks. “We are talking to your aunt.” 

The kids slump, bored. Katie goes back to doodling on her place mat, Matt sulks. 

“You’re going to love the zoo,” Jack offers. “There are giraffes and everything.”

“It’s a zoo, of course there are giraffes,” Matt says. “What kind of zoo doesn’t have giraffes?”

“Matthew,” Elizabeth says warningly.

“I haven’t been to the zoo in ages, I’m looking forward to it,” Pete says, looking at Jack.

“Me too,” Jack replies.

“So we’re all going to the zoo then?” Elizabeth asks. “Fantastic.” She sips her water.

“And Charlie,” Sam says. “I think he’s planning on coming along.”

“Who is Charlie?” Mark asks.

“My son,” Jack says. “He’s sixteen.”

“Jack is a retired Colonel himself,” Sam offers. 

“Oh yeah?” Mark says. “Full-bird?”

“Yep,” Jack says.

“I know a lot of guys who hit full-bird and then call it a day,” Mark says. “It’s a nice retirement if you can get it.”

“I retired because my wife died,” Jack says. “I had to raise my son.” He doesn’t say _you asshole_ but it hangs there in the air, anyway.

“Oh,” Mark says. “My apologies.”

The food comes, finally, and they all shovel it into their mouths to stop the talking. 

oooo

“It’s going fine,” Jack says in the truck, though his jaw seems tight and his eyes have narrowed down to slits.

“First of all,” Sam says, “I don’t even know this detective or why the hell they brought him along.”

Jack barks out a laugh. “Yes you do.”

“No, I swear, I’ve never met him before today,” she argues.

“But you know why they brought him,” Jack says. Sam stares at him. “They brought him for you, Carter!”

“What?”

“It’s a set up. They brought him to even out your numbers. Your brother thought he was doing you a favor. Did you even tell them about me at all?”

“Yes! Of course! I talk about you to Elizabeth all the time, but Mark is an arrogant asshole who probably didn’t…. whatever, this is all so stupid.” 

“It’s fine,” he says. “It’s okay. The poor guy probably feels worse than we do.”

“We can skip the zoo,” Sam offers.

“Charlie wants to come,” Jack says, shaking his head. “We’re going.”

They’re headed home to pick Charlie up and then are meeting their party back at the zoo. 

“Okay,” Sam says. 

Charlie, miraculously, is dressed and ready when they walk in the front door, sitting on the couch in front of the television eating a poptart out of its shiny silver sleeve. 

“Oh Charlie,” Sam says. “That’s not even really food.”

“It’s delicious,” he says.

“You ready?” Jack asks. 

In the truck, Charlie asks how breakfast went.

“Oh,” Sam says. “Families are complicated.”

“That good, huh?” Charlie asks.

“They brought some dude for Sam to date,” Jack says.

“What?” Charlie asks. “You’re the dude that Sam dates.”

“I know, right?” Jack says. 

“My brother is… kind of dense,” Sam says. “Smart, but oblivious, you know?” 

“Like Trevor Dunbar?” Charlie asks.

“Yes,” she says. “More stoic, but yes.” 

“Whatever,” Charlie says, rolling down his window just enough to stick his hand out into the wind. “I’m just in it for the monkeys.”

“Giraffes,” Jack says. 

“I like the elephants,” Sam says. Jack reaches over and squeezes her knee.

oooo

Charlie is very patient with Matthew. In the real world, Charlie wouldn’t give someone like Matthew the time of day, but in this weird cobbled together family scenario, Charlie is kind and answers all of Matt’s questions. Of which there are very, very many. 

Katie has gotten whiny and complains about everything - it’s too hot, her feet hurt, she’s hungry, she’s bored and on and on. Sam loves her but wants to ditch her in the reptile house. It’s Pete, actually, who is the best with her. Telling her dumb animal jokes and making her laugh, pointing out neat things to look at, commiserating that his feet hurt, too. She hopes that what Jack said isn’t true, that he wasn’t expecting a date out of this, or if he was, he isn’t too disappointed. 

She holds Jack’s hand as they stroll toward the lions and he pulls her to the side of the pass to kiss her lightly. She knows it’s some masculine form of marking his territory, peeing on her leg or something, but she allows it because she thinks her brother will only notice something if it is thrown into his face. 

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth says at one point. They’re waiting in line to get lunch. Pete and the kids are at the big table the found with Mark, Jack and Charlie are buying bottles of water from a vending machine and Elizabeth and Sam are going to buy overpriced burgers and hotdogs and french fries. 

“Why? I’m glad you came,” Sam says.

“I told Mark that you weren’t going to be interested in his friend,” Elizabeth says. “I told him I was pretty sure you were seeing someone.”

“I actually moved in with Jack and Charlie, so,” she shrugs. “It’s pretty serious now.” 

“That’s great!” Elizabeth says. “And to be honest, I really don’t think Pete is your type. He’s nice but… he’s looking for someone to stay home and have his babies and clean his house.”

“Pass,” Sam says. “Hard pass.”

“Exactly.” 

When they get back to the table with their trays loaded down with greasy park food, Jack is handing out waters. 

“Peter,” he says.

“It’s Pete,” Pete says as he takes the bottle.

“Okay,” Jack says dismissively, handing the next bottle to Matthew. Jack is just goading him now and when they’re seated, she gives him a look that says, _stop_. He pretends not to see it.

“When does school start again?” Elizabeth asks Charlie.

“Like, three weeks?” Charlie asks.

“Senior year?” Mark asks.

“Junior,” Charlies says. “Unfortunately.” 

“Not too fast,” Jack says. “What’s the rush?”

“I couldn’t wait to move out of my parents house,” Pete says. “I never went back. It was great.”

Jack’s hand on Sam’s leg balls into a fist. 

oooo

Mark and Pete take the kids to the movies. It’s their last full day in Colorado Springs. Jack has already started football practice so he and Charlie will be gone most of the day. Sam picks up Elizabeth and brings her to the house. They’ll eat lunch and then maybe do a little shopping. Honestly, though, Sam is exhausted, feels itchy under her skin from too much company.

“This is nice,” Elizabeth says, holding her bag tightly against her. 

“Convincing,” Sam says. She is making progress on getting used to living with two men, one of which is a slob who leaves his sports equipment at the front door and his dishes in the sink, and the other who is Charlie.

Elizabeth takes a slow walk around the living room, looking at the pictures of Charlie on the mantle, the shadow box of Air Force medals, the stack of books on the table next to the sofa where Sam sits and reads while Jack and Charlie watch hockey or football or baseball. 

Sam slings her purse over her shoulder and says, “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth says. “Sam...”

“What?” Sam asks when Elizabeth doesn’t continues.

“This all seems really nice.”

“What does?”

“This life,” Elizabeth says. “We’ve been so worried about you but maybe we shouldn’t be.”

“Maybe not,” Sam says rolling her eyes. But she smiles.

oooo

Sam gets to keep her same classroom which feels like a luxury. In San Diego, they were always shuffling everybody around. Her parking spot is better this year, too, though she didn’t mind the one that was far away. Walter hands her the new parking permit with a solemn nod and says, “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” she says uneasily. That man is really into parking. 

She barely sees the boys at all in the weeks before school starts. They’re always at practice. But, finally, Sam is home alone with Charlie one night because Jack’s bowling league has started up again. 

“Like,” Charlie says. “Are we all supposed to drive to school together?”

Sam looks up from her book.

“Probably not,” she says. “You go in early for weight training and I will just sleep, thanks.”

“Okay,” he says. 

“It’s okay to worry about stuff changing. I do,” she says. 

“I’m not worried,” he says. “I just… want to make sure everything stays good.”

“Well,” she says. “Nothing is always going to be perfect but I’m glad you think things are good.”

“I just want my dad to be happy,” he says. “I’m not always going to be here, you know.”

“You’re not?” she says, but she’s teasing. “Can I have your room when you leave?”

“No!” he says. And then, “For what?”

“Oh I don’t know, science experiments? A library?”

“Crafts?” he asks.

“Probably not crafts,” she says. 

“Other moms are crafty,” Charlie says. “But they don’t ride motorcycles.”

She smiles at him, her face flushing, her heart beating fast. 

oooo

Three weeks into the school year, Sam wakes up to thunder. It’s a little unusual, rain so early, but not unheard of. Jack’s side of the bed is rumpled and empty and when she goes into the bathroom, it’s steamy and warm from his shower. When she makes it down the stairs, both Jack and Charlie are still in the kitchen, finishing up coffee and the crusts of their toast. 

“What’s the matter?” Jack asks, surprised to see her.

“It’s raining,” she says. Charlie snorts back laughter; Jack hands her his mug. The coffee is half gone and not exactly as hot as she prefers, but she still takes it because it’s coffee and she isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The rain beats down on the kitchen window and though a small awning protects the glass of the slider, the wood of the deck is dark and waterlogged. She watches the water fall for a few moments before Jack hugs her from behind.

“We gotta go,” he says. “See you soon.”

“Let’s all call in sick,” she says. 

“Yes! Done!” Charlie says, dropping his backpack to the ground. The thump it makes is unsettling - no wonder everyone sits at their desk with the appalling posture of a hunchback. Sam had been that way too, once, curled over the long tables in the library at her graduate school, when she’d been working toward something better. Before she’d set it all aside for a wedding that never happened.

“Let’s go, kiddo,” Jack says. Charlie picks up his bag, navigates it on to his broad shoulders. He’s grown so much in the last year - he’s still wiry, but strong. When he doesn’t shave for a couple days, it’s noticeable. The boyishness of his face is diminishing.

“See you later,” he says. 

Alone in the house, Sam adds fresh coffee to Jack’s mug and takes it upstairs. 

The shower has one of those metal caddies that hangs from the shower head that holds the shampoo, the conditioner, her citrus scented body wash and her blue razor. It also has a little place for a bar of soap, so Sam uses the one built into the shower to set her coffee cup on. It’s high enough that the spray from the shower misses it completely and it’s a sort of wicked indulgence, sipping coffee while hot water pummels her between her shoulder blades. The first time Jack had seen her do this, he’d whispered “Genius!” and had been a convert ever since. Though half the time, he takes a can of beer in there. 

“I am not the inventor of shower beer,” she’d told him.

“You are for me,” he’d said. 

She’s almost late, unlocking her classroom door with four or five students already waiting outside. One of the girls, Michelle, drags her messenger bag along behind her. 

“It’s not even Monday,” Sam says.

“It’s _morning_ ,” Michelle spits back. She sounds perpetually offended and out of sorts and today, Sam can relate. Her AP class is first period this year, which does seem cruel. Teenagers don’t function this early, they just don’t, so she’s had to tone down her tyrannical approach to AP this year. She can yell and threaten them all she wants, but they’re tired and it doesn’t do any good. 

The rest of the kids come pouring in, with at least a third of them with travel mugs or white Starbucks cups. Sam didn’t start really drinking coffee until college. Three of her students have cans of energy drink. The stuff smells awful, like gasoline mixed with cheap perfume.

“There’s actually more caffeine in a cup of coffee than in that energy drink,” she says to one of the guys holding a Rock Star, a shorter kid name Ronald. 

“Yeah but coffee taste like dirt,” he says. “I can always drink two of these.”

“Not exactly the lesson I was trying to impart,” she says. 

The bells rings. 

She starts slow, turning on the projector with the slides of today’s lecture. People pull out clean paper and pens, their faces resting on their hands.

“Okay,” she says. “Physics.”

oooo

Jack has a fire going in the fireplace when she gets home. It’s late and cold and everything looks so warm and inviting. She drops her purse and her bag and collapses into the armchair.

“Where’s Charlie?” she asks.

“Grounded,” Jack says.

“What?” she exclaims. She’s lived with them for over six months and known them for longer and she’s never known about Charlie getting grounded. She didn't even know Jack believed in that kind of discipline. “What happened?”

“I caught him having sex,” Jack says.

“WHAT?” she exclaims.

“With Cassandra Frasier,” Jack finishes gravely.

“Oh my God!” she says. “I knew it! Brother and sister my ass.” 

“You knew?” he says.

“No, I mean, that they were all flirty and hormonal,” she says. “Did he use protection?”

Jack glares at her and then says, “I think so.”

“Well,” Sam shrugs. “Teenagers have sex, Jack. The best you can hope for is that it’s safe sex.”

Sam sees something out of the corner of her eye, movement at the top of the stairs. Charlie has cracked his door and is listening. Hoping, maybe, that Sam will plead his case.

“They were here?” she asks. 

“He lied, said he was sick, _left school_ and came home with her here. I came home at lunch to check on him and bring him some food and all I see is his ass in the air,” Jack says. “I mean, how long has he been lying to us about this?”

“Yes, the lying and skipping school is unacceptable,” she concedes, “but think about what you would’ve done to get laid at sixteen.”

“No,” he says.

“Does Janet know?” Sam asks.

“Oh yeah,” he says, cracking the first smile she’s seen since getting home. “I drove her home myself.”

“Oof,” she says. She watches Jack watch the fire for a few minutes and says, “They're just kids.”

“Too young for sex,” he says.

“Maybe so,” she says. “But you would’ve done exactly the same thing, so don’t be mad at him for too long, okay?”

“There’s leftovers for you in the kitchen,” Jack says. 

Sam calls Janet while she eats the rest of the lukewarm macaroni and cheese and a few bites of salad.

“Frasier residence,” Cassandra answers.

“Hey Cass, it’s Miss Carter,” she says.

“Oh,” Cassie says, sounding glum and awkward. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Sam says, though it’s hard to keep the smile out of her voice. “Can I talk to your mom?”

“Yeah. MOM!” 

Sam hears a muffled sound and then, “IT’S MISS CARTER.” 

Sam holds the phone away from her ear and pours herself a glass of water from the filtered pitcher in the refrigerator. 

“Hi Sam,” Janet says.

“Oh hi,” she says. “I hear there is a scandal afoot.”

“Your step-son is trying to impregnate my daughter,” Janet says. 

“I don’t know about _that_ ,” Sam says. “You’re the biology teacher. You know exactly what happened.”

“I just thought I had more time,” Janet says. “I just thought our kids were not stupid.”

“All kids are stupid,” Sam says. “They can’t help it.”

“You’re pretty calm about all of this,” Janet says.

“I just think being mad about sex isn’t the right message,” Sam says. “They’re going to do it, so we may as well teach them to be safe and respectful instead of getting mad so all they want to do is bang in secret.”

“Please don’t say bang,” Janet says. “And it’s easy to take the philosophical high ground when it’s not your kid under there.”

“I know,” Sam says. “I’m sorry. We’ll chain him up out back from now on.” 

“Thank you,” Janet says.

Charlie hides out in his room until Jack goes to bed. Sam stays up late grading tests, sitting at the kitchen table with her red felt pen. She doesn’t even refer to the answer key anymore, just glances down the questions slashing through wrong answers or giving partial credit. Like Abby Anderson who does all the homework correctly but bombs all her tests which is a clear indication that she’s copying off someone somewhere.

She writes _see me_ at the bottom of her test. 

Charlie comes into the kitchen and jumps at the sight of Sam. 

“Slinking out of hiding, I see,” Sam says glancing up at him. 

“I just wanted some water,” he mutters. 

“Okay,” she says.

He pulls a glass from the cupboard but then just holds it, looking down into it. 

“How long?”

“The whole month,” he says. 

“Yikes,” she says. “Well, I mean, I guess it could’ve been worse.”

“He didn’t hit either of us,” Charlie says. “There’s that.”

“There is that,” she says. “Now, I thought you and Cass weren’t like that. Is how you explained it to me.”

“We weren’t,” he says. “Until we were.”

“Ah,” she says. 

“You asked me that like a year ago. A year ago you weren’t dating my dad, either.”

“That’s true,” she concedes. “Your dad is just worried about you guys being safe and moving too fast, you know that right?”

“I know,” he says. “I was stupid to get caught.” He finally puts water in his glass and then sits down across from her. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Okay,” she says. She goes back to her tests, he sits and sips at his water. 

“Do you think everything is going to be okay?” Charlie asks after a few minutes of silent brooding.

“Everything ever?” she says. “No. You and your dad and me? Yes, I think we will be okay.”

This seems to help and soon, he goes to bed.

She follows not long behind, shutting off lights and checking to make sure the doors are locked. She checks the thermostat before she climbs the stairs. Jack has left the bedroom door open, but she closes it behind her. She brushes her teeth, changes into soft pants and a tank top and the slips into bed next to him.

He wakes up; he always does. 

She shifts close to him so he can hold her for awhile, nuzzling his scratchy chin into her bares shoulder.

“Okay?” he asks.

Like father, like son.

“Okay,” she reassures him. 

He gives her a little squeeze and falls back to sleep. She falls asleep, too, feeling perfectly okay.


End file.
